The People of God in the Apocalypse: Discourse, Structure and Exegesis (Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series)

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T H E P E O P L E O F G O D I N T H E A P O C A LY P S E

Stephen Pattemore examines passages within Rev. 4:1–22:21 that depict the people of God as actors in the apocalyptic drama and infers what impact these passages would have had on the self-understanding and behaviour of the original audience of the work. He uses Relevance Theory, a development in the linguistic field of pragmatics, to help understand the text against the background of allusion to other texts. Three important images are traced. The picture of the souls under the altar (6:9–11) is found to govern much of the direction of the text with its call to faithful witness and willingness for martyrdom. Even the militant image of a messianic army (7:1–8, 14:1–5) urges the audience in precisely the same direction. Both images combine in the final image of the bride, the culmination of challenge and hope traced briefly in the New Jerusalem visions. Dr Pattemore is a translation consultant with United Bible Societies, working with translation projects in New Zealand and Papua New Guinea.

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128 T H E P E O P L E O F G O D I N T H E A P O C A LY P S E

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The People of God in the Apocalypse Discourse, Structure, and Exegesis

S T E P H E N PAT T E M O R E

cambridge university press Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge cb2 2ru, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521836982 © Stephen Pattemore 2004 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published in print format 2004 isbn-13 isbn-10

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CONTENTS

List of figures and table Preface List of abbreviations 1 A question of relevance

page viii ix xi 1

2 Relevance Theory in biblical interpretation

13

3 A cognitive environment for the Apocalypse

51

4 Souls under the altar – a martyr ecclesiology

68

5 Companions of the Lamb – a messianic ecclesiology

117

6 The New Jerusalem, bride of the Lamb

197

7 Summary and conclusions

213

Appendix Bibliography Index

Abbreviated discourse outline

220 226 246

vii

F I G U R E S A N D TA B L E

Figure 5.1 Dialectic of naming/sealing/marking in Revelation Figure 5.2 Dialectic of sexual imagery in Revelation Table 5.1 Narrative structure of Daniel 7 and Revelation

viii

page 183 188 120

P R E FAC E

The book of Revelation, despite (or perhaps because of) the perplexing nature of its imagery, continues to attract both academic and popular interest in Western societies in the early years of a new millennium. But the stimulus for this study has come from involvement in the task of translating the scriptures into the languages of Asia and the Pacific. The context of Bible translation has given a pragmatic edge to my study. While I have focussed principally on understanding the text within its original context, the goal and purpose has always been not only to add to academic literature on the book of Revelation, but to provide a secure basis for contextualizing its message in the vastly different languages and thought worlds of contemporary societies. This work has its origins in the major part of my Otago University doctoral thesis, and my thanks go to Paul Trebilco, Tim Meadowcroft, and Peter Carrell for their skilful supervision and advice and also for their friendship and encouragement. Otago University (Dunedin), the Bible College of New Zealand (Auckland), and Tyndale House (Cambridge, UK) have all played a significant part in bringing this research to fruition. The research was carried out with the help of a scholarship provided by the United Bible Societies, to whom my sincere thanks are due for their generous sponsorship. In particular I wish to acknowledge the help and encouragement of David Clark, for many years UBS Translation Consultant to the Urak Lawoi’ New Testament translation project on which I worked. Thanks also to Graham Ogden, and to his successor as Asia-Pacific Regional Translations Coordinator, Daud Soesilo, and to Basil Rebera, formerly UBS Translation Services Coordinator, for their support. Part of my research, a discourse analysis of the entire book of Revelation, which sets the stage for this present work, has recently been published in the UBS Monograph Series. Thanks for financial help are also due to the John Baldwin Memorial Scholarship Fund. My thanks are due to John Court, and his predecessor as editor of the SNTS Monograph Series, Richard Bauckham, for their advice ix

x

Preface

and encouragement. I am also very grateful to the staff of Cambridge University Press, in particular Kate Brett and Jackie Warren, and to Pauline Marsh, for their help in bringing the typescript to publication. My own family has been a loving and stimulating context in which to carry out this study, keeping me firmly anchored to the reality of contemporary life. This volume is dedicated to my wife, Raewyn, who, having endured an earlier thesis (in Physics, twenty-five years ago), not only accepted another thesis into the family with good grace, but provided all the personal encouragement and support I have needed. And it has been an ever-present challenge to justify to teenage and young adult children why “slaughtered souls under the altar” deserved so much time and attention. Thank you to Kerryn and Greg, to David, Rachel, and Brian, fellow pilgrims to the New Jerusalem.

A B B R E V I AT I O N S

Periodicals, series and reference works AB ACNT AnBib AramBib AUSS AUSDDS BAGD

BAR BBS BETL BGBE BI Bib BJRL BR BSac BT BTB BTTB3 BZNW CBQ CBQMS CNT ConBNT

Anchor Bible Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament Analectica Biblica The Aramaic Bible: The Targums Andrews University Seminary Studies Andrews University Seminary Doctoral Dissertation Series W. Bauer, W. F. Arndt, F. W. Gingrich, and F. W. Danker, A Greek–English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2nd edn, 1958) Biblical Archaeology Review Behavioural and Brain Sciences Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium Beitr¨age zur Geschichte der biblischen Exegese Biblical Interpretation Biblica Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester Biblical Research Bibliotheca Sacra The Bible Translator Biblical Theology Bulletin Biblioth`eque de th´eologie. Th´eologie biblique, series 3 Beihefte zur Zeitschrift f¨ur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly CBQ Monograph Series Commentaire du Nouveau Testament Coniectanea Biblica New Testament Series xi

xii

List of abbreviations

CRINT CT DSD EQ EstB ETL EUS23 ExpTim FRLANT GNS GNTE GTJ HAR HBT HDR HNT HTR ICC Int IVPNTC JBL JECS JETS JNSL JPrag JR JSJ JSJSup JSNT JSNTSup JSOTSup JSPSup JTS KKNT Lang LL NA

Compendia Rerum Iudicarum ad Novum Testamentum Cahiers th´eologiques Dead Sea Discoveries Evangelical Quarterly Estudios B´ıblicos Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses European University Studies, Series 23, Theology Expository Times Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Good News Studies Guides to New Testament Exegesis Grace Theological Journal Hebrew Annual Review Horizons in Biblical Theology Harvard Dissertations in Religion Handbuch zum Neuen Testament Harvard Theological Review International Critical Commentary Interpretation Intervarsity Press New Testament Commentary Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Early Christian Studies Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages Journal of Pragmatics Journal of Religion Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period Journal for the Study of Judaism Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the New Testament JSNT Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series Journal of Theological Studies Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar u¨ ber das Neue Testament Language Language and Literature Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen

List of abbreviations NA27

NCB Neot NICNT NICOT NIGTC NovT NovTSup NRT NTC NTL NTM NTS OTM PBNS RB RevQ RivB SacP SBT SBT2 SM SNT SNTSMS ST STDJ TDNT

TDOT

TrinJ TU TUGAL TynB TZ

xiii

B. Aland, K. Aland, J. Karavidopoulos, C. M. Martini, and B. M. Metzger (eds.), Novum Testamentum Graece (Nestle–Aland) (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 27th edn, 1993) New Century Bible Neotestamentica New International Commentary on the New Testament New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Greek Testament Commentary Novum Testamentum Novum Testamentum, Supplements La Nouvelle Revue th´eologique The New Testament in Context New Testament Library New Testament Message New Testament Studies Oxford Theological Monographs Pragmatics and Beyond, New Series Revue biblique Revue de Qumran Rivista biblica Sacra Pagina Studies in Biblical Theology Studies in Biblical Theology, Second Series Studia Missionalia Studien zum Neuen Testament Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Studia Theologica Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah G. Kittel and G. Friedrich (eds.), Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, trans. G. W. Bromiley (10 vols.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964– ) G. J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren (eds.), Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (10 vols.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974–98), vol. IX, trans. D. E. Green Trinity Journal of Theology Texte und Untersuchungen Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur Tyndale Bulletin Theologische Zeitschrift

xiv

List of abbreviations

UBS4

UCLWPL UCOP VC VoxEv VT WBC WMANT WTJ WUNT ZNW

B. Aland, K. Aland, J. Karavidopoulos, C. M. Martini, and B. M. Metzger (eds.), The Greek New Testament (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft/ United Bible Societies, 4th edn, 1993) University College London Working Papers in Linguistics University of Cambridge Oriental Publications Vigiliae Christianae Vox Evangelica Vetus Testamentum Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum alten und neuen Testament Westminster Theological Journal Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zeitschrift f¨ur die neutestamentliche Wissenschafte

Books of the Bible and Apocrypha Gen. Exod. Lev. Num. Deut. Josh. Judg. Ruth 1 Sam. 2 Sam. 1 Esdr. 4 Ezra (= 2 Esdr. 3–14) Wisd. Matt. Mark Luke John Acts Rom. 1 Cor.

1 Kings Eccl. 2 Kings Song 1 Chron. Isa. 2 Chron. Jer. Ezra Lam. Neh. Ezek. Esth. Dan. Job Hos. Ps. (pl. Pss.) Joel Prov. Amos Sir. Bar. 1 Macc. 2 Cor. 1 Tim. Gal. 2 Tim. Eph. Tit. Phil. Phlm. Col. Heb. 1 Thess. Jas. 2 Thess. 1 Pet.

Obad. Jon. Mic. Nah. Hab. Zeph. Hag. Zech. Mal. 2 Macc.

2 Pet. 1 Jn 2 Jn 3 Jn Jude Rev.

List of abbreviations Ancient Jewish and Christian literature and texts Adv. Marc. Ap. Bar. Asc. Isa. 2 Bar. = Bar. Syr. BW 1 Enoch Jos. As. JW LXX MT Odes Sol. OG 1QM Pss. Sol. Targ. Targ. Jer. Frag. Targ. Ps.-J. Test. Jos. Test. Lev. Test. Sim. Th. Tos. Targ.

Tertullian, Against Marcion 3 Baruch, Apocalypse of Baruch (Greek) The Ascension of Isaiah 2 Baruch, Apocalypse of Baruch (Syriac) The Book of the Watchers, 1 Enoch 1–36 Ethiopic Enoch Joseph and Asenath Josephus, The Jewish War Septuagint (ed. A. Rahlfs) Masoretic Text Odes of Solomon Old Greek version of Daniel The War Scroll, from Qumran Cave 1 Psalms of Solomon Targum Targum of Jerusalem (fragmentary) Targum Pseudo-Jonathan Testament of Joseph Testament of Levi Testament of Simeon Theodotion version of Daniel Tosephta Targum

xv

1 A Q U E S T I O N O F R E L E VA N C E

1.1

The relevance of the Apocalypse

The Apocalypse of St John has always provoked the question of its own relevance. In the second century its place in the canon was far from assured, with questions raised about its apparent Jewish character, its symbolism, and its apostolic authorship.1 By the 1990s it could still be described as ‘only marginally canonical’.2 In between it has both influenced art, literature, and politics and yet suffered from neglect and abuse.3 The Apocalypse has been the handbook for millenarian sects of many shades throughout the past two millennia, with increasing frequency and intensity in the periods leading up to the years 1000 and 2000.4 But it has also been used by those with power, to bolster their position by 1 On the early reception of the Apocalypse see R. H. Charles, The Revelation of St. John (2 vols., ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1920), vol. I, pp. xcvii–ciii; H. B. Swete, The Apocalypse of John (London: Macmillan, 1911), pp. cvi–cxix; N. B. Stonehouse, The Apocalypse in the Ancient Church: A Study in the History of the New Testament Canon (Goes, the Netherlands: Oosterbaan & Le Cointre, 1929), especially pp. 150–5. On authorship see Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. xxxviii–l, and further below, Chapter 3, pp. 52–3. 2 T. Pippin, Death and Desire: The Rhetoric of Gender in the Apocalypse of John (Literary Currents in Biblical Interpretation; Louisville: Westminster/ John Knox, 1992), p. 46. 3 See summaries in M. E. Boring, Revelation (Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989), p. 61; J. Roloff, The Revelation of John, trans. John E. Alsup (A Continental Commentary; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), pp. 1–3; and, in more detail, in R. K. Emmerson and B. McGinn (eds.), The Apocalypse in the Middle Ages (Thought, Art and Culture; Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992). On the abuse of Revelation through history see K. G. C. Newport, Apocalypse and Millennium: Studies in Biblical Eisegesis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). On the influence of the Apocalypse on art see F. Carey (ed.), The Apocalypse and the Shape of Things to Come (London: British Museum, 1999). 4 See especially N. Cohn, The Pursuit of the Millennium (New York: Oxford University Press, 1961). The influence of the Apocalypse on the Branch Dravidian cult of Waco, Texas has been discussed by J. M. Court, ‘A Future for Eschatology?’, in M. D. Carroll, D. J. A. Clines, and P. R. Davies (eds.), The Bible in Human Society: Essays in Honour of John Rogerson (JSOTSup, 200; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), pp. 191–3; and especially Newport, Apocalypse, pp. 197–236.

1

2

The People of God in the Apocalypse

marginalizing or demonizing others.5 Through the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, millenarianism of one kind or another, usually formed by an eclectic and harmonizing approach to the books of Revelation and Daniel, has been an important focus, and sometimes a touchstone of orthodoxy, for evangelical Christianity.6 Millennial anxiety prior to the year 2000, compounded by apocalyptic scenarios proposed for the Y2K computer bug, led to an increase in interest in the Apocalypse and in apocalyptic language and imagery, not only in evangelical circles but in the popular press and media.7 Perhaps because of these phenomena, but also simply because of the difficulty of the language and symbolism of the book, and its apparent lack of connection with the modern world, the Apocalypse has, until comparatively recently, suffered considerable neglect in reformed, mainstream, and liberal Christianity.8 But in scholarly circles the second half of the twentieth century saw a remarkable recovery of interest in apocalyptic literature in general, partly as a result of mid-century wars and the possibilities of nuclear holocaust.9 The book from which the genre takes its name has ridden the wave of interest, with considerable progress made in understanding it in the context of its own socio-historical world. But despite, or provoked by, this revival of interest there has also been a stream of thought, drawing on reader-centred, deconstructionist methodologies, strongly antagonistic to the Apocalypse and the world-views it allegedly promotes. Ethical problems such as anti-semitism, misogyny, militarism, and patriarchal colonialism have been attributed to it, leading one recent writer to hold that ‘Revelation is unreclaimable.’10 5 See Newport, Apocalypse, pp. 48–65; S. L. Cook, Prophecy and Apocalypticism: The Post-Exilic Social Setting (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), pp. 55–84. 6 See E. R. Sandeen, The Roots of Fundamentalism: British and American Millenarianism 1800–1930 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970); H. Dunton, ‘Millennial Hopes and Fears: Great Britain, 1780–1960’, AUSS 37 (1999), pp. 179–208. 7 J. Paulien, ‘The Millennium is Here Again: Is it Panic Time?’, AUSS 37 (1999), pp. 167–78, avoids the hysteria but retains focus on the hope of Christ’s return. 8 See Roloff, Revelation, pp. 1–3. For strong reactions to conservative evangelical viewpoints see A. Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis: The Power of the Apocalypse (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1984), pp. 13–14; E. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation: Vision of a Just World (Proclamation Commentaries; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), pp. 7–10. 9 See the introductory remarks by Hanson in P. D. Hanson (ed.), Visionaries and their Apocalypses (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983), p. 8. 10 A. M. Jack, Texts Reading Texts, Sacred and Secular (JSNTSup, 179; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), p. 208. See also T. Pippin, ‘Eros and the End: Reading for Gender in the Apocalypse of John’, Semeia 59 (1992), pp. 193–210; S. D. Moore, ‘The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition: Revelation’s Hypermasculine Deity’, JSNT 60 (1995), pp. 27–55; Pippin, Death and Desire; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 117–39. A more measured approach to the book’s ethical problems is D. L. Barr, ‘Towards an Ethical

A question of relevance

3

Questions of relevance have also been my own entry point into the study of John’s Apocalypse, through involvement in the translation of the New Testament into indigenous language of the Asia-Pacific region. Although the language of Revelation presents surprisingly few translation problems, few communities possess the background knowledge needed to understand the bizarre imagery. How responsible is it to give such a book to people who can know so little of its origins, who are so remote from its world of ideas? Yet the translator of the NT works under canonical constraints, and this shifts the domain of questions of relevance back from the contemporary community to the community involved with the original communication event. For the Apocalypse’s canonical status is evidence of its relevance to that original community.11 How did it achieve that relevance? How did the original audience find themselves in the text? How did they relate to ‘the souls of those who had been slaughtered’ or the 144,000 male virgin followers of the Lamb? In what directions did the Apocalypse’s text move them? Answering such questions should provide a basis from which to address questions of relevance to the contemporary community. The concept of ‘relevance’ has thus far remained undefined and yet central to the discussion. What does it mean to be ‘relevant’? Can relevance be measured so as to discriminate between things which are more or less relevant? Relevant to whom? Relevance Theory, a development in the linguistic field of pragmatics, offers a promising way forward.12 By defining ‘relevance’ precisely and locating its effect in the cognitive processes of the human mind it provides a framework both for an explanation of the process of understanding utterances and for measuring, at least comparatively, the relevance of a particular concept in a particular context. It is the burden of the central part of this study to investigate, using Relevance Theory, how the Apocalypse captured its audience, how it led them to identify with characters in the drama being portrayed, and in what directions it motivated them. 1.2

The people of the Apocalypse

Locating our interest in the relevance of the Apocalypse to its original audience raises questions about the community that gave rise to the book, Reading of the Apocalypse: Reflections on John’s Use of Power, Violence and Misogyny’, in SBL Seminar Papers 1997 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), pp. 358–73. 11 D. L. Barr, ‘The Apocalypse as a Symbolic Transformation of the World: A Literary Analysis’, Int 38 (1984), p. 39. 12 The seminal work is D. Sperber and D. Wilson, Relevance: Communication and Cognition (Oxford: Blackwell, 1st edn, 1986, 2nd edn, 1995). See p. 13 n. 2 below for a brief discussion of pragmatics.

4

The People of God in the Apocalypse

both in its geographical, social, and political context and in its world of ideas. Both areas have received considerable attention. On the assumption that the intended recipients of the book were the churches of Asia Minor mentioned in chs. 1–3, Hemer has provided a detailed description, updating the earlier work of Ramsay.13 Others have described in more general terms the location of early Christian communities in the Greco-Roman and Jewish Diaspora contexts of the first century.14 For the major part of the book, it is the thought-world of Jewish and Christian traditions and literature that must provide the most important clues to relevance. The relationship of Revelation to the Old Testament has been an area of intensive research, and numerous approaches to understanding this relationship have been advanced.15 The influence of the OT background will play a major role in this study, but consideration must 13 W. M. Ramsay, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia and their Place in the Plan of the Apocalypse (Reprint of 1904 edn; Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1979); C. J. Hemer, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia in their Local Setting (JSNTSup, 11; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1986). The view that the local references have little significance and that John is opposing a single Gnostic sect is championed by P. Prigent, ‘L’H´er´esie asiatique et l’Eglise confessante’, VC 31 (1977), pp. 1–22; P. Prigent, L’Apocalypse de Saint Jean (CNT, 14; Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2nd corrected edn, 1988), pp. 25–6, 37–9, 80. See also C. H. H. Scobie, ‘Local References in the Letters to the Seven Churches’, NTS 39 (1993), pp. 606–24; J. M. Court, Myth and History in the Book of Revelation (London: SPCK, 1979), pp. 20–42; J. R. Michaels, Interpreting the Book of Revelation (GNTE, 7; Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1992), pp. 35–42; S. J. Friesen, ‘Revelation, Realia, and Religion: Archaeology in the Interpretation of the Apocalypse’, HTR 88 (1995), pp. 291–314. My assumptions will be made explicit below, pp. 51–60. 14 S. E. Johnson, ‘Asia Minor and Early Christianity’, in J. Neusner (ed.), Christianity, Judaism and Other Greco-Roman Cults. Part Two: Early Christianity (Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity; Leiden: Brill, 1975), pp. 77–145; D. Flusser, Judaism and the Origins of Christianity (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1988); L. L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990); P. Trebilco, Jewish Communities in Asia Minor (SNTSMS, 69; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991); L. L. Thompson, ‘Mooring the Revelation in the Mediterranean’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1992 (Atlanta: Scholar’s Press, 1992), pp. 635–53; P. Borgen, Early Christianity and Hellenistic Judaism (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1996); R. Garrison, The Graeco-Roman Context of Early Christian Literature (JSNTSup, 137; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997). 15 On the location of Revelation in the first-century literary environment see D. E. Aune, The New Testament in its Literary Environment (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1987), pp. 226–52. On the relationship with the OT see G. K. Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament in Revelation (JSNTSup, 166; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998); J. Cambier, ‘Les Images de l’Ancien Testament dans l’Apocalypse de saint Jean’, NRT 77 (1955), pp. 113–22; A. Vanhoye, ‘L’Utilisation du livre d’Ez´echiel dans l’Apocalypse’, Bib 43 (1962), pp. 436–76; A. Lancellotti, ‘L’Antico Testamento nell’ Apocalisse’, RivB 14 (1966), pp. 369–84; G. K. Beale, ‘Revelation’, in D. A. Carson and H. G. M. Williamson (eds.), It is Written: Scripture Citing Scripture. Essays in Honour of Barnabas Lindars, SSF (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 318–36; J. Paulien, Decoding Revelation’s Trumpets: Literary Allusions and the Interpretation of Revelation 8:7–12 (AUSDDS, 11; Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1988); J.-P. Ruiz, Ezekiel in the

A question of relevance

5

also be given to the influence of later Palestinian Judaism and the traditions stemming from (or reflected by) Qumran.16 Despite its heavy reliance on Jewish traditions, the Apocalypse as it stands is unmistakably a Christian document, and the connections it displays to the traditions, both textual and liturgical, of early Christianity have understandably attracted significant attention.17 Another world-view which contributes to the relevance of the Apocalypse in its original context is that of Jewish and Christian apocalyptic. Revived interest in apocalyptic literature and the communities that produced it has had a vast and growing literary output.18 A significant Apocalypse: The Transformation of Prophetic Language in Revelation 16, 17–19, 10 (EUS23, 376; Frankfurt-on-Main: Peter Lang, 1989); J. Fekkes, Isaiah and Prophetic Traditions in the Book of Revelation: Visionary Antecedents and their Development (JSNTSup, 93; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994); S. Moyise, The Old Testament in the Book of Revelation (JSNTSup, 115; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995). 16 For the background in Palestinian Judaism see M. McNamara, The New Testament and the Palestinian Targum to the Pentateuch (AnBib, 27; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1966); M. McNamara, Palestinian Judaism and the New Testament (GNS; Dublin: Veritas, 1983); P. Trudinger, ‘The Apocalypse and the Palestinian Targum’, BTB 16 (1986), pp. 78–9. For Qumran see H. Braun, Qumran und das Neue Testament, vol. I (T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1966); F. Garc´ıa Mart´ınez, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies on the Aramaic Text from Qumran (STDJ, 9; Leiden: Brill, 1992); M. Chyutin, The New Jerusalem Scroll from Qumran: A Comprehensive Reconstruction (JSPSup, 25; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997); D. E. Aune, ‘Qumran and the Book of Revelation’, in P. W. Flint and J. C. Vanderkam (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, vol. II (Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 622–50. 17 L. A. Vos, The Synoptic Traditions in the Apocalypse (Kampen: J. H. Kok, 1965); R. J. McKelvey, The New Temple: The Church in the New Testament (OTM; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969); A. A. Trites, The New Testament Concept of Witness (SNTSMS, 31; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977); G. K. Beale, ‘The Use of Daniel in the Synoptic Eschatological Discourse and in the Book of Revelation’, in D. Wenham (ed.), The Jesus Tradition Outside the Gospels (Gospel Perspectives, 5; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1984), pp. 129–53; A.-M. Enroth, ‘The Hearing Formula in the Book of Revelation’, NTS 36 (1990), pp. 598–608; M. E. Boring, The Continuing Voice of Jesus: Christian Prophecy and the Gospel Tradition (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1991); R. Bauckham, The Climax of Prophecy: Studies in the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1993), pp. 92–117; S. S. Smalley, Thunder and Love: John’s Revelation and John’s Community (Milton Keynes: Word, 1994). Studies which trace the dependence of, for example, Revelation 4–5 on early Christian liturgy include L. Mowry, ‘Revelation 4–5 and Early Christian Liturgical Usage’, JBL 71 (1952), pp. 75–84; P. Prigent, Apocalypse et liturgie (CT, 52; Neuchatel: Editions Delachaux et Niestl´e, 1964); J.-P. Ruiz, ‘Revelation 4:8–11; 5:9–14: Hymns of the Heavenly Liturgy’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1995 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), pp. 216–20. On supposed liturgical usage of the text of Revelation see U. Vanni, ‘Un esempio di dialogo liturgico in Ap 1, 4–8’, Bib 57 (1976), pp. 453–67; U. Vanni, ‘Liturgical Dialogue as a Literary Form in the Book of Revelation’, NTS 37 (1991), pp. 348–72; J.-P. Ruiz, ‘Betwixt and Between on the Lord’s Day: Liturgy and the Apocalypse’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1992 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), pp. 654–72. 18 See J. H. Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. I, Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments (New York: Doubleday, 1983); J. J. Collins and J. H. Charlesworth

6

The People of God in the Apocalypse

outcome of this research for the present study has been the extension of the definition of apocalyptic literature from a primarily formal one, to include a statement about its function.19 The close relationship which has emerged between form and function is illustrated by Aune’s definition of the function of an apocalypse: Function: (a) to legitimate the transcendent authorization of the message, (b) by mediating a new actualization of the original revelatory experience through literary devices, structures and imagery, which function to ‘conceal’ the message which the text ‘reveals’, so that (c) the recipients of the message will be encouraged to modify their cognitive and behavioral stance in conformity with transcendent perspectives.20 The applicability of this description to the book of Revelation may be thought to hinge on the precise relationship of the book to the genre (eds.), Mysteries and Revelations: Apocalyptic Studies since the Uppsala Colloquium (JSPSup, 9; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991); J. J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2nd edn, 1998); Cook, Prophecy and Apocalypticism; Hanson (ed.), Visionaries and their Apocalypses; H. H. Rowley, The Relevance of Apocalyptic: A Study of Jewish and Christian Apocalypses from Daniel to the Revelation (London: Lutterworth Press, revised edn, 1963); D. S. Russell, The Method and Message of Jewish Apocalyptic (London: SCM Press, 1964); P. Vielhauer, ‘Apocalyptic’, in E. Henneke (ed.), New Testament Apocrypha (London: Lutterworth Press, 1965), pp. 587–94; K. Koch, The Rediscovery of Apocalyptic (SBT2, 22; London: SCM Press, 1972); P. D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic: The Historical and Sociological Roots of Jewish Apocalyptic Eschatology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975); D. Hellholm (ed.), Apocalypticism in the Mediterranean World and the Near East: Proceedings of the International Colloquium on Apocalypticism, Uppsala, August 12–17, 1979 (T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 2nd edn, 1979); J. Lambrecht (ed.), L’Apocalypse johannique et l’Apocalyptique dans le Nouveau Testament (BETL, 53; Gembloux: J. Duculot, 1980), J. C. VanderKam, Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition (CBQMS, 16; Washington: Catholic Biblical Association, 1984); H. S. Kvanvig, Roots of Apocalyptic: The Mesopotamian Background of the Enoch Figure and of the Son of Man (WMANT, 61; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1988); P. Sacchi, Jewish Apocalyptic and its History (JSPSup, 20; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990); D. S. Russell, Prophecy and the Apocalyptic Dream: Protest and Promise (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1994); J. C. VanderKam and W. Adler (eds.), The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity (CRINT, 4; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1996). 19 See the two issues of Semeia which focus on apocalyptic, J. J. Collins (ed.), Apocalypse: Morphology of a Genre (Semeia, 14; Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979), and A. Yarbro Collins (ed.), Early Christian Apocalypticism: Genre and Social Setting (Semeia, 36; Decatur, GA: Scholars Press, 1986). The earlier formal definition is found in J. J. Collins, ‘Introduction: Towards the Morphology of a Genre’, Semeia 14 (1979), p. 9. 20 D. E. Aune, ‘The Apocalypse of John and the Problem of Genre’, Semeia 36 (1986), p. 87. See also D. Hellholm, ‘The Problem of Apocalyptic Genre and the Apocalypse of John’, Semeia 36 (1986), pp. 13–64, and the evaluation by A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Introduction: Early Christian Apocalypticism’, Semeia 36 (1986), pp. 1–12.

A question of relevance

7

‘Apocalypse’.21 But this is to assume an understanding of genre which is too deterministic, especially for a book which appears to claim membership of three genres – apocalypse, prophecy, and letter.22 More helpful is Sch¨ussler Fiorenza’s pragmatic approach, speaking of the ‘generic tenor’ of the book in a way that allows exploration of the contribution of elements of each generic type to the function of the book.23 A number of studies, reflecting this functional approach to apocalyptic genre but drawing also on social-scientific methodology and on the study of ancient rhetorical strategies, have attempted to explain how the Apocalypse might have transformed the world-view and thus altered the behaviour patterns of its audience.24 21 On the genre of Revelation see D. E. Aune, Revelation 1–5 (WBC, 52a; Dallas: Word, 1997), pp. lxx–xc; G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), pp. 37–43; R. Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), pp. 1–17; B. J. Malina, On the Genre and Message of Revelation: Star Visions and Sky Journeys (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1995); F. D. Mazzaferri, The Genre of the Book of Revelation from a Source-critical Perspective (BZNW, 54; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1989); Thompson, Apocalypse and Empire, pp. 18–24. Studies on apocalyptic genre with relationship to the Apocalypse include L. Hartman, ‘Form and Message: A Preliminary Discussion of “Partial Texts” in Rev 1–3 and 22, 6ff.’, in Lambrecht, L’Apocalypse johannique, pp. 129–49; W. W. Vorster, ‘ “Genre” and the Revelation of John: A Study in Text, Context and Intertext’, Neot 22 (1988), pp. 103–23; J. J. Collins, ‘The Genre Apocalypse in Hellenistic Judaism’, in Hellholm, Apocalypticism in the Mediterranean World, pp. 531–48; E. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘The Phenomenon of Early Christian Apocalyptic: Some Reflections on Method’, in Hellholm, Apocalypticism in the Mediterranean World, pp. 295–316; R. E. Sturm, ‘Defining the Word “Apocalyptic”: A Problem in Biblical Criticism’, in J. Marcus and M. L. Soards (eds.), Apocalyptic and the New Testament: Essays in Honour of J. Louis Martyn (JSNTSup, 24; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), pp. 17–48; D. E. Aune, ‘Intertextuality and the Genre of the Apocalypse’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1991 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991), pp. 142–60; G. Linton, ‘Reading the Apocalypse as an Apocalypse’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1991 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991), pp. 161–86; J. J. Collins, ‘The Christian Appropriation of the Apocalyptic Tradition’, in Seers, Sibyls and Sages in Hellenistic-Roman Judaism (JSJSup, 54; Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 115–27. 22 See Rev. 1:1–8. See Michaels, Interpreting, pp. 21–33; Beale, Revelation, pp. 37–43. On the letter form of the Apocalypse see M. Karrer, Die Johannesoffenbarung als Brief (G¨ottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1986). 23 Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 23–6. 24 See Barr, ‘Symbolic Transformation’; D. L. Barr, ‘The Apocalypse of John as Oral Enactment’, Int 40 (1986), pp. 243–56. Social-science approaches undergird Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis; Thompson, Apocalypse and Empire; J. N. Kraybill, Imperial Cult and Commerce in John’s Apocalypse (JSNTSup, 132; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996); T. B. Slater, Christ and Community: A Socio-Historical Study of the Christology of Revelation (JSNTSup, 178; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999). Rhetorical strategy plays an important part in the approach of Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation; J. T. Kirby, ‘The Rhetorical Situations of Revelation 1–3’, NTS 34 (1988), pp. 197–207; D. E. Aune, ‘The Form and Function of the Proclamations to the Seven Churches (Revelation 2–3)’, NTS 36 (1990), pp. 182–204; R. M. Royalty Jr, ‘The Rhetoric of Revelation’, in SBL Seminar Papers 1997 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), pp. 596–617; D. A. deSilva, ‘Honor Discourse and the Rhetorical Strategy of the Apocalypse of John’, JSNT 71 (1998), pp. 79–110.

8

The People of God in the Apocalypse

Yet for all this interest in the function of the Apocalypse, there is surprisingly little written about the way in which the vision narratives, particularly those that depict the people of God in some form or other, interact with the audience’s self-understanding to motivate them towards belief and behaviour. In fact the visionary depictions of the people of God themselves have received relatively little attention.25 Several important studies must be noted, however, and their influence acknowledged. First, Minear suggested that ‘John expressed a distinct hortatory intention in at least eight different literary forms.’26 While explicit imperatives occur mainly in the messages of chs. 2–3, the later visions contribute significantly to several of the other forms.27 This study will have occasion to explore how some of these work in greater detail. Trites’ The New Testament Concept of Witness included a helpful chapter on ‘witness’ in the book of Revelation.28 Trites emphasizes the forensic aspect of witness, and the importance of this to the audience’s potential conflict with state or civic law, but also presents a perceptive study on the two witnesses in Revelation 11, and their importance to the audience’s understanding of their responsibilities.29 Sweet also focusses on the idea of witness, but emphasizes its inevitable outcome in suffering for the witnesses, and the identification that this entails between them and their Lord. Further, he interprets the victory of God’s people as a victory through suffering and sacrifice.30 Sch¨ussler Fiorenza and Aune have both published studies which take as their starting point the 144,000 followers of the Lamb in Rev. 14:1–5.31 But while Sch¨ussler Fiorenza uses this as a springboard 25 J. L. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed: A Narrative Critical Approach to John’s Apocalypse (Biblical Interpretation Series, 32; Leiden: Brill, 1998) does not even list them among the main characters. John uses many terms to refer to God’s people – slaves of God, saints, witnesses, churches, prophets, and other descriptive phrases. Although
 with a possessive pronoun referring to God occurs only twice (18:4; 21:3), I shall use the phrase ‘people of God’ throughout this study as a conveniently inclusive expression. 26 P. S. Minear, I Saw a New Earth: An Introduction to the Visions of the Apocalypse (Washington: Corpus Books, 1968), p. 214. 27 Minear’s list, in brief, consists of 
   phrases, beatitudes, conditional clauses, hortatory subjunctives, ‘he who conquers’ phrases, vice and virtue, lists and explicit imperatives (ibid., pp. 214–223). 28 Trites, Witness, pp. 154–74. 29 See pp. 160–4 below. 30 J. P. M. Sweet, ‘Maintaining the Testimony of Jesus: The Suffering of Christians in the Revelation of John’, in W. Horbury and B. McNeil (eds.), Suffering and Martyrdom in the New Testament: Studies Presented to G. M. Styler by the Cambridge New Testament Seminar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), pp. 101–17. The results of this seminal study will be seen to be largely borne out by my thematic investigations below. 31 E. Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘The Followers of the Lamb: Visionary Rhetoric and SocioPolitical Situation’, Semeia 36 (1986), pp. 123–46; D. E. Aune, ‘Following the Lamb: Discipleship in the Apocalypse’, in R. N. Longenecker (ed.), Patterns of Discipleship in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), pp. 269–84.

A question of relevance

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for discussion of John’s rhetorical strategy, Aune focusses on the nature of the discipleship to which John is urging his audience, with emphasis on following Jesus through suffering, and discipleship as an expression of sacrifice. A significant influence on Aune’s approach is Bauckham’s treatment of the 144,000 as a messianic army.32 Bauckham’s work not only identifies an extended military metaphor in the visions, but links these visions to the theme of messianic fulfilment and highlights the fact that the only warfare which this army engages in is ‘ironic warfare’ through its experience of suffering, and its victory is a victory through death. The links between the Messiah and his people are further developed in a recent christological study, Slater’s Christ and Community. Slater examines three primary christological images, the son of man, the Lamb, and the Divine Warrior, and concludes each section with a discussion of the meaning of these images for the community to which the book is addressed. This study is important for what it affirms about the significance of the christology of Revelation for the people of God, and in particular the relationship of the presentation of Christ as son of man with the messages to the seven churches. But apart from this, and precisely because his is a study of christology, he does not deal directly with the ecclesiology of the book or with the images of the people of God in the visionary accounts.33 1.3

Aims and scope of this study

Adela Yarbro Collins concluded a survey of twentieth-century interpretations of the Apocalypse with these words: ‘Revelation . . . provides a story in and through which the people of God discover who they are and what they are to do.’34 My study aims to elucidate this process of discovery on both fronts, identity and action. The Apocalypse, however, is not one story but a nesting of embedded stories. Kirby distinguishes three rhetorical situations involved in the book, namely the communication situations between John and his readers, 32 33

Bauckham, Climax, pp. 210–37. See Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 116–53. Apart from Slater, the most significant links between christology and ecclesiology have been made by Bauckham in the studies discussed here and in his Theology, pp. 66–108. A recent addition to works discussing the depiction of the people of God is G. Stevenson, Power and Place: Temple and Identity in the Book of Revelation (BZNW, 107; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2001), who also provides detailed background to the significance of temple imagery in Jewish and Greco-Roman contexts. 34 A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Reading the Book of Revelation in the Twentieth Century’, Int 40 (1986), p. 242.

10

The People of God in the Apocalypse

between Jesus and John, and between Jesus and the churches.35 But this still does not adequately cover the difference in rhetorical situation between, say, chs. 1–3 and chs. 4–22. Barr moves the discussion further by distinguishing ‘three basic narrative levels, each with its own narrator and narratee’.36 On the outer level, the reader of the Apocalypse is the narrator and his audience the narratee, whom Barr links most closely with the implied audience. On the second level, John narrates his visions to a narratee ‘named as the seven churches’.37 On the innermost level, characters within John’s narrative themselves narrate to other characters. Although technically distinct, from a pragmatic perspective Barr’s narratees on the first and second levels are hard to separate from each other or from the implied audience, since they share the same social location. We shall assume in this study that they represent real Christians in real first-century churches in Asia Minor. Characters on the innermost level, narrators and narratees, are elements of a vision, and it will be part of our task to identify which of these are representing the people of God. Within this framework, we shall seek to answer the following questions. How do the narratees on Barr’s first and second levels relate to the characters which depict the people of God on the innermost level, whether narrators or narratees? Do the stories in which these characters participate reflect the actual situation of the audience, or some hypothetical situation, whether idealized or future? How does the depiction of the people of God in the visions contribute to the self-understanding of the audience? And finally, in what directions does it move them? What are the cognitive and behavioural outcomes to which the narrative seeks to lead them? The issue, then, is not the relationship of the first and second level narratees to a real audience, about which we have virtually no independent knowledge. Rather, assuming that these narratees correspond in general (and perhaps specific) social location to the real audience, how do the vision narratives, in particular those described in Rev. 4:1–22:9, aid their discovery of ‘who they are and what they are to do’? The methodology distinctive of this study will be the use of Relevance Theory (RT) to investigate these questions. To my knowledge, among writers on the Apocalypse, only Garrow shows the influence of Sperber and Wilson’s cognitive approach.38 The intention is not to put forward RT as a stand-alone alternative to existing hermeneutical strategies, but to use insights from it to sharpen the interpretive focus. The extensive 35

Kirby, ‘Rhetorical Situations’, pp. 198–9. 37 Ibid. Barr, ‘Ethical Reading’, p. 372. A. J. P. Garrow, Revelation (New Testament Readings; London: Routledge, 1997). See especially the summary of his approach, p. 2. 36 38

A question of relevance

11

commentaries of Aune and Beale provide an invaluable mass of data, background information, and bibliographical leads with which to work.39 But the very volume of information in these commentaries also highlights the need for a discriminatory hermeneutic criterion by which to evaluate the significance of proposed background information for the understanding of the text. This study will show that Relevance Theory provides such a criterion. In Chapter 2, therefore, I summarize Relevance Theory as proposed by Sperber and Wilson, and discuss its application to the interpretation of texts. I then examine implications of RT for the study of biblical text in general and the Apocalypse in particular, in interaction with other pragmatic approaches including Speech Act Theory, and discussions of intertextuality. The chapter concludes with a definition of the relevancetheoretic methodology to be used. Chapter 3 discusses both the external and the internal context of the book of Revelation. First, it provides a summary of the assumptions about the historical, social, and literary context of the book which underlie the subsequent work. And secondly, it summarizes the results of an analysis of the discourse structure of the book from a Relevance-Theoretic perspective.40 This analysis identifies three roles in which the people of God are present in the Apocalypse, as addressees of the prophetic letter, as audience of the vision narration, and as actors within the visionary drama. Further, it locates each of these appearances in textual units defined by relevance criteria, and relates these textual units hierarchically within the overall structure of the book. Thus it locates the passages of greatest interest within the vision narration of 4:1–22:9. The ensuing three chapters contain the central exegetical treatment, tracing connected themes relating to the people of God as actors through the vision narrative, and exploring their impact on the audience and addressees. Chapter 4 begins with the first actual visionary depiction of the people of God, as the souls of the slaughtered under the altar (Rev. 6:9–11), and follows themes relating to martyrdom through the book. Chapter 5 traces what might be labelled militaristic depictions of the 39 Aune, Revelation 1–5; D. E. Aune, Revelation 6–16 (WBC, 52b; Dallas: Word, 1998); D. E. Aune, Revelation 17–22 (WBC, 52c; Dallas: Word, 1998); Beale, Revelation. 40 My doctoral dissertation, S. W. Pattemore, ‘The People of God in the Apocalypse: A Relevance-Theoretic Study’ (Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Dunedin: University of Otago, 2000), addressed both discourse-structural and exegetical issues. The structural studies have been published as S. W. Pattemore, Souls under the Altar: Relevance Theory and the Discourse Structure of Revelation (UBS Monograph Series, 9, New York: UBS, 2003), while the present volume contains the exegetical work. To avoid confusion with Chapter 4 of the present volume, the UBS publication will be abbreviated as Discourse Structure.

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The People of God in the Apocalypse

people of God, from Revelation 7 forwards. These turn out to paint, not a triumphalistic picture, but one of victory through suffering after the pattern of the Messiah. Chapter 6 briefly shows how the various threads are woven together in the picture of the New Jerusalem. Finally, Chapter 7 summarizes the results of the study and evaluates the part that Relevance Theory has played in it.

2 R E L E VA N C E T H E O RY I N B I B L I C A L I N T E R P R E TAT I O N

2.1

Introduction

How do humans communicate their thoughts to one another? An influential paradigm over several decades has been the code model, whereby a sender encodes a thought in a linguistic message which is transmitted by some medium to a receiver, who decodes the message to produce a replication of the original thought.1 While this model may accurately represent some physical communication processes, it has at best only partial success with the psychological dimensions of human communication. In particular, it offers no adequate explanation for the importance of inference at all levels (from simple gestures, through figures of speech such as hyperbole and irony, all the way to complex symbolic representation and institutional language), whereby what is communicated is something other than what is encoded in the message. Relevance Theory (RT), as developed by Sperber and Wilson, provides a rigorous, pragmatic account of the process of communication, including especially the role of inference.2 In this chapter I shall summarize the theory, note some reactions 1 Since C. E. Shannon and W. Weaver, The Mathematical Theory of Communication (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1949), especially pp. 5, 95–113. A modified version of their diagram is presented by Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, pp. 4–5. For the remainder of this chapter, the latter work will be referred to simply as Relevance. Page references apply to both first and second editions, except for the Postface to the second edition (1995), pp. 255–79. References to this will be noted explicitly. 2 Pragmatics was defined by Charles W. Morris in 1938 as ‘the relations between signs and interpreters’, or later in 1946 as ‘that branch of semiotics which studies the origin, the uses and the effects of signs’. See C. W. Morris, Writings on the General Theory of Signs (The Hague: Mouton, 1971), pp. 6, 365. Modern linguistic accounts of pragmatics begin here, but the precise definition is problematical. See the long discussion in S. C. Levinson, Pragmatics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), pp. 1–35. My use of the term in this chapter assumes such working concepts as ‘language in use’ or ‘language in context’ (see Levinson, Pragmatics, p. 32). Levinson clearly distinguishes this linguistic sense from philosophical pragmatism (p. 1). A finer, but no less critical, distinction is implied by Thiselton’s critique of what he calls ‘socio-pragmatic hermeneutics’. See, for example, A. Thiselton, New Horizons in Hermeneutics: The Theory and Practice of Transforming Biblical Reading (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1992), pp. 6–7.

13

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The People of God in the Apocalypse

to it, and then discuss its application to the interpretation of literary texts, with particular focus on its implications for understanding the Bible. This will lead to a summary of how RT might be used to investigate the Apocalypse. 2.2

Relevance Theory Background

Sperber and Wilson, while acknowledging that encoding and decoding take place in communication, hold that these processes are inadequate to explain how communication works, unless supplemented by, or subordinated to, a process of implication and inference: [T]he linguistic meaning of an uttered sentence falls short of encoding what the speaker means: it merely helps the audience infer what she means. The output of decoding is correctly treated by the audience as a piece of evidence about the communicator’s intentions. In other words, a coding–decoding process is subservient to a Gricean inferential process.3 RT is grounded on the inferential theory of H. P. Grice, who proposed a ‘principle of co-operation in conversation’: ‘Make your conversation contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose of direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged.’4 This he filled out with nine maxims setting guidelines for quantity, quality, relevance, and manner of a conversational contribution. The importance of Grice’s work is not that the various maxims provide rules or codes for successful communication but that they describe how communication creates the conditions for its own success. ‘Grice put forward an idea of fundamental importance: that the very act of communicating creates expectations which it then exploits.’5 Successful communication depends on shared information, but what is the nature of this shared information? Rejecting ideas of ‘mutual knowledge’ and ‘shared knowledge’ as either empirically or conceptually 3 Relevance, p. 27. Note the convention of assuming a female speaker/author and male listener/reader. 4 H. P. Grice, ‘Logic and Conversation’, in H. P. Grice (ed.), Studies in the Ways of Words (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989), p. 26. The quotation is from a reprint of his 1975 paper, ‘Logic and Conversation’. 5 Relevance, p. 37.

Relevance Theory in biblical interpretation

15

deficient, Sperber and Wilson fix on the concept of manifestness and use it to define a cognitive environment: A fact is manifest to an individual at a given time if and only if he is capable at that time of representing it mentally and accepting its representation as true or probably true . . . A cognitive environment of an individual is a set of facts that are manifest to him . . . [Which assumptions are more manifest to an individual during a given period or at a given moment is again a function of his physical environment on the one hand and his cognitive abilities on the other.]6 Two or more people can share a cognitive environment. This does not imply that they do make the same assumptions but that they can do so. This leads to the idea of a mutual cognitive environment – one in which it is manifest which people share it. ‘In a mutual cognitive environment every manifest assumption is . . . mutually manifest.’7 This concept is considerably weaker than ‘mutual knowledge’ and in addition cannot guarantee that communicator and audience will make a symmetrical choice of context and code to use in a communication situation. But Sperber and Wilson assert that this asymmetry is inherent in communication anyway: It is left to the communicator to make correct assumptions about the codes and contextual information that the audience will have accessible and be likely to use in the comprehension process. The responsibility for avoiding misunderstandings also lies with the speaker, so that all the hearer has to do is go ahead and use whatever code and contextual information come most readily to hand.8 On this basis, communication is seen as the attempt to change the cognitive environment of another person, and thus to enlarge the scope of what is mutually manifest to both communicator and audience. Clearly no audience can explore and classify all possible contextual implications of a given utterance.9 There must be a selecting and limiting process. Information which is totally new, with no connection to the audience’s existing cognitive environment, will have no contextual implications.10 Neither will old information. It is information that is new but has connections 6 9

7 Ibid., p. 42. 8 Ibid., p. 43. Ibid., p. 39. A contextual implication is a conclusion derived from a combination of existing assumptions and new information. It is formed by the interpretation of new propositions within a particular context. See ibid., pp. 107–8. 10 It may have its own logical implications.

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The People of God in the Apocalypse

with the existing environment which will have the greatest contextual effects (including negating, strengthening, extending, or enriching existing assumptions). This is relevant information in Sperber and Wilson’s terminology. Before defining ‘relevance’ more precisely we should note a further underlying concept, ostension. ‘Ostensive behaviour is behaviour which makes manifest an intention to make something manifest.’11 This has to do with the self-conscious nature of human communication. It not only conveys information, but conveys the intention to convey information. This allows for weaker or non-verbal communication as well as communication by structured propositional language. Thus communication consists of two levels of intention: ‘Informative intention: to make manifest or more manifest to the audience a set of assumptions {I} . . . Communicative intention: to make it mutually manifest to audience and communicator that the communicator has this informative intention.’12 These ideas combine to give the following definition: Ostensive-inferential communication: the communicator produces a stimulus which makes it mutually manifest to communicator and audience that the communicator intends, by means of this stimulus, to make manifest or more manifest to the audience a set of assumptions {I}.13

Relevance Relevance, if it is to provide an account of human communication which is not only descriptive but explanatory, must be defined in a quantifiable way. Different contextual effects and implications have to be able to be judged more or less relevant. This does not require an absolute scale of relevance, but a comparative one. For this purpose Sperber and Wilson define ‘extent conditions’: Extent condition 1: an assumption is relevant in a context to the extent that its contextual effects in this context are large. Extent condition 2: an assumption is relevant in a context to the extent that the effort required to process it in this context is small.14 11 13

12 Ibid., pp. 58, 61. Ibid., p. 49. Ibid., p. 61. A similar idea was stated much earlier (1969) by Quentin Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding in the History of Ideas’, in J. Tully (ed.), Meaning and Context: Quentin Skinner and his Critics (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1988), p. 63. 14 Relevance, p. 125.

Relevance Theory in biblical interpretation

17

These two conditions illustrate the fundamental insight of Relevance Theory – that human cognition takes place in a balancing act between processing effort and contextual effect. Communication works because the audience make the assumption that the communicator intends to communicate and intends to be relevant. The audience do not need to determine in advance the context within which to process a communication. Sperber and Wilson suggest that the choice of an appropriate context continues through the comprehension process and is governed by the search for relevance. The immediate context in which an utterance occurs is only a starting point, and the context for comprehension can be extended in one or more different directions throughout the comprehension process. These include short-term memory of earlier parts of the conversation (often referenced by anaphoric pronouns), encyclopaedic entries on particular words retrieved from memory, or features of the physical environment (often indicated by deictic pronouns). ‘These factors determine not a single context but a range of possible contexts. What determines the selection of a particular context . . . is . . . the search for relevance.’15 The audience does not take a particular context as given and proceed to assess the relevance of the communication. Instead relevance is taken as given and a context selected to justify that assumption. This leads Sperber and Wilson to enunciate what they call ‘the presumption of optimal relevance’, which, as modified in the second edition of Relevance, states: Presumption of optimal relevance (revised) (a) The ostensive stimulus is relevant enough for it to be worth the addressee’s effort to process it. (b) The ostensive stimulus is the most relevant one compatible with the communicator’s abilities and preferences.16 An audience understands a communication by bringing to it the most accessible elements of the mutual cognitive environment and deciding on the meaning that produces the best contextual effects for the least processing effort. The communicator, knowing this, produces the stimulus which will lead the receptor to his intended meaning. This explanation is summarized by two principles of relevance.17 The ‘First 15 16

Ibid., pp. 141. See pp. 137–41 for the discussion. Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 2nd edn, p. 270. Compare the original statement in Relevance, p. 158. The modified statement allows that the actual relevance may not be the absolute maximum, but may be influenced by the speaker’s aims, priorities, and abilities. 17 Relevance, 2nd edn, pp. 260–1. In the first edition, Relevance, p. 158, there was only one principle, the second of these. The first was an underlying assumption. The change is ‘expository and not substantive’ (p. 271). By the ‘principle of relevance’ I normally intend the second.

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The People of God in the Apocalypse

(or Cognitive) Principle’ is the fundamental claim: ‘Human cognition tends to be geared to the maximisation of relevance.’ The ‘Second (or Communicative) Principle’ encapsulates the nature of ostensive communication: ‘Every act of ostensive communication communicates a presumption of its own optimal relevance.’ Language usage In order to show how the principle of relevance explains a range of human language use, Sperber and Wilson first distinguish between the explicit and implicit assumptions conveyed by an utterance. Explicit assumptions (explicatures) are only those that are a development of the logical form encoded in the utterance – all others are implicit (implicatures). The understanding of both implicit and explicit assumptions involves an inferential process governed by the principle of relevance. To understand the explicatures of an utterance it is necessary to identify its propositional form. Relevance Theory accepts that often this will be simply derived from its syntactic and semantic form. But the audience may need to process this surface form in order to achieve relevance. Ambiguities must be resolved using contextual clues, pronouns must be assigned referents, and the connotations of semantically incomplete items must be enriched. At every stage in disambiguation, reference assignment and enrichment the hearer should choose the solution involving the least effort, and should abandon this solution only if it fails to yield an interpretation consistent with the principle of relevance.18 The search for relevance by a trade-off between contextual effects and processing effort can also explain the way in which stylistic features of an utterance affect the meaning. Sperber and Wilson examine such features as word order and placement of focal stress, backgrounding and foregrounding, and structural features such as topic–comment, given– new, and focus–presupposition distinctions. They conclude: Given that utterances have constituent structure, internal order and focal stress, and given that they are processed over time, the most cost-efficient way of exploiting these structural features will give rise to a variety of pragmatic effects. There is a 18

Relevance, p. 185.

Relevance Theory in biblical interpretation

19

natural linkage between linguistic structure and pragmatic interpretation, and no need for any special pragmatic conventions or interpretation rules: the speaker merely adapts her utterance to the way the hearer is going to process it anyhow, given the existing structural and temporal constraints.19 Turning to implicatures, Sperber and Wilson make the hermeneutically significant assertion that there is no sharp division between strong implicatures of an utterance which are clearly intended by the speaker and weak implicatures for which the hearer ‘takes the entire responsibility’. Clearly the weaker the implicatures the less confidence the hearer can have that the particular premises or conclusions he supplies will reflect the speaker’s thoughts and this is where the indeterminacy lies. However, people may entertain different thoughts and come to have different beliefs on the basis of the same cognitive environment. The aim of communication in general is to increase the mutuality of cognitive environments rather than guarantee an impossible duplication of thoughts.20 This sliding scale of implicatures with corresponding movement of responsibility from speaker to hearer is interestingly illustrated by the spectrum of contemporary hermeneutic strategies. But it should be noted that it is only in the limiting cases that the hearer assumes full responsibility. Weak implicatures are significantly exploited by the communicator to achieve, amongst other things, a wide range of poetic effects. This too is a reflection of the principle of relevance, as a speaker can often achieve a large degree of relevance ‘through a wide array of weak implicatures’.21 To analyse some of these poetic effects and to account for the pragmatics of speech acts, Sperber and Wilson make a further important distinction: between descriptive and interpretive use of language. An utterance is used descriptively if it ‘represent[s] some state of affairs in virtue of its propositional form being true of that state of affairs’.22 It is used interpretively if it represents some other utterance in virtue of a resemblance between the propositional forms of the two utterances. Now every utterance is already an interpretation of a thought of the speaker. This thought may be either a description of an actual state of affairs or of a desirable state of affairs, or an interpretation of an attributed thought or a desirable thought (of the speaker or some other person). This schema, together with the principle of relevance, is capable of explaining metaphor, irony, and the whole range of speech acts. 19

Ibid., p. 217.

20

Ibid., pp. 199–200.

21

Ibid., p. 222.

22

Ibid., p. 228.

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Metaphor is towards the end of a sliding scale of language use which begins with ‘literal use’ and proceeds through various degrees of ‘loose’ uses. Most utterances have some degree of looseness, and ‘the hearer should take an utterance as fully literal only when nothing less than full literality will confirm the presence of relevance . . . the element of indirectness in an utterance must be offset by some increase in contextual effects’.23 Not only metaphors, but also a wide range of related figures of speech, are interpreted by a hearer on the basis of the search for optimal relevance. Irony is similarly treated, not as a special case but as an example of echoic utterance – a re-expression of another thought or utterance with the expression of an attitude (of disapproval or ridicule) towards it. Once again the linguistic and extra-linguistic contexts provide the clues in the search for relevance.24 Sperber and Wilson accept the usefulness of Speech Act Theory as a descriptive tool, but argue against the necessity for any special explanatory framework for the operation of speech acts. Speech acts do not have to be recognized as such in order to be effective, but ‘[a] speaker who wants to achieve some particular effect should give whatever explicit cues are needed to ensure that the interpretation consistent with the principle of relevance is the one she intended to convey’.25 Reactions and development Relevance Theory has proved to be a robust and seminal theory, as evidenced by the amount and diversity of continuing work based on it. While it has from its introduction stirred lively debate within the linguistics community, it stands as the most significant development since Grice in understanding the pragmatics of human communication.26 The fundamental insights from RT have been applied and developed in areas 23 Ibid., p. 234. Similarly G. Lakoff and M. Johnson, Metaphors we Live by (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), pp. 166–9, argued that the process of understanding even a simple sentence as true shows the importance of inference and contextual assumptions, even when the only metaphors are institutionalized or dead ones. 24 For developments in the RT treatment of irony see D. Wilson and D. Sperber, ‘On Verbal Irony’, Lingua 87 (1992), pp. 53–76, and contributions to the ‘Symposium on Irony’ included in R. Carston and S. Uchida (eds.), Relevance Theory: Applications and Implications (PBNS, 37; Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1998), pp. 239–95. 25 Relevance, p. 249. 26 A convenient summary of the theory, followed by an ‘Open Peer Commentary’, which contains a range of responses, positive and negative, can be found in D. Sperber and D. Wilson, ‘Pr´ecis of Relevance: Cognition and Context’, BBS 10 (1987), pp. 697–754.

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as diverse as anthropology, psychology, pragmatics, stylistics, discourse structure, computer modelling, literary interpretation, and translation.27 But of greatest significance for the application of the theory to the interpretation of biblical texts is the continuing work in the areas of pragmatics, literary style, discourse structure, and translation.28 The second edition of Relevance, as well as revising the way in which some of the main propositions are expressed, also contains extensive bibliographic notes and references, charting the reactions to and developments arising from the original publication of the theory.29 Apart from conventional bibliographic sources on relevance, note should be made of several reputable world-wide web sites which maintain up-to-date information on RT and papers available for download.30 Several areas touched on by Sperber and Wilson in the course of their treatment of relevance would seem to offer potentially important insights into the study of biblical texts. The first arises from the fact that contemporary study of the biblical text takes place in an interlingual environment. Scholars working in the original languages are nevertheless bringing their understanding into their own language environment. Thus consideration of interlingual interpretive usage and translation are of significance. But this issue is part of a wider question, the applicability of RT to the interpretation (whether inter- or intralingual) of literary texts, which has engendered considerable debate. Section 2.3 will seek to address this question, 27 Linguistic applications include several contributions in F. J. Newmeyer (ed.), Linguistics: The Cambridge Survey (4 vols., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988): R. M. Kempson, ‘Grammar and Conversational Principles’, in vol. II, pp. 139–63; R. Carston, ‘Language and Cognition’, in vol. III, pp. 38–68; D. Blakemore, ‘Organisation of Discourse’, in vol. IV, pp. 229–50. Note also D. Blakemore, Understanding Utterances (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992); V. Rouchota and A. H. Jucker (eds.), Current Issues in Relevance Theory (PBNS, 58; Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1998). 28 Literary interpretation will be the focus of section 2.3, pp. 22–31, and discourse analysis will be treated in section 3.3, pp. 60–7. Note the recent collection of papers relating to applications of RT, Carston and Uchida, Relevance Theory p. 22. This contains a useful glossary of RT terms (pp. 295–9). There are also valuable surveys of the developments and applications of RT, with extensive bibliographies, in the introduction to a special issue of the journal Lingua, N. Smith and D. Wilson, ‘Introduction’, Lingua 87 (1992), pp. 1–10, and in F. Yus, ‘A Decade of Relevance Theory’, JPrag 30 (1998), pp. 305–45. 29 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 2nd edn, pp. 255–60, 295–8. See also the discussion of the changes made to the presentation, in I. Higashimori and D. Wilson, ‘Questions on Relevance’, UCLWPL 8 (1996), pp. 111–24. 30 Relevance Home Page, UCL (http://www.phon.ucl.ac.uk/home/robyn/relevance/ home.htm); Department of English, University of Alicante, Spain (http://www.ua.es/ dfing/rt.htm); Department of Foreign Languages, Guangxi Normal University, Guilin, China (http://www.gxnu.edu.cn/personal/szliu/RT cognitprag.html); Dan Sperber’s home page (http://www.dan.sperber.com/); and a site for academic publications on cognitive sciences (http://cogprints.soton.ac.uk/).

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examining ways in which RT has been applied to literary interpretation, and the objections raised, before drawing some conclusions about the benefits of and constraints on the use of RT in literary interpretation. Section 2.4 will bring the discussion closer to our focal text, by examining some of the implications of RT for study of biblical documents. Then there are significant links between structure and pragmatic effects of a text. This implies that discourse analysis of any text should be done with respect to the principle of relevance. This issue will be further discussed in Chapter 3, section 3.3. 2.3

Relevance and literary interpretation Preliminary considerations

Relevance Theory claims not so much to be a ‘better theory’ for the understanding of human cognition as to provide the underlying pathway for all theories. The search for relevance is thus a criterion at all levels of language analysis including the interpretation of literary texts. Sperber and Wilson developed RT largely with reference to short utterances of spoken language, in face-to-face contexts, and their spontaneous interpretation. Our interests are in the study and interpretation of (ancient) texts, extended written documents. The use of RT on such material involves a leap in scale, medium, and communication situation and raises questions of the validity of relevance in this new environment. A few quotations illustrate the fact that the authors of the theory saw no intrinsic problem with making this leap: When communication is non-reciprocal, there are various possible situations . . . The communicator may be in a position of such authority over her audience that success of her informative intention is mutually manifest in advance. Journalists, professors, religious or political leaders assume, alas often on good grounds, that what they communicate automatically becomes mutually manifest.31 We assume . . . that the lengthy and highly self-conscious processes of textual interpretation that religious or literary scholars engage in are governed just as much by the principle of relevance as is spontaneous utterance comprehension.32 The addressees of an act of ostensive communication are the individuals whose cognitive environment the communicator is 31

Relevance, p. 61.

32

Ibid., p. 75.

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trying to modify . . . they may be individuals falling under a certain description, as when we address the present paragraph to all individuals who have read the book so far and found it relevant to them. In broadcast communication, a stimulus can even be addressed to whoever finds it relevant. The communicator is then communicating her presumption of relevance to whoever is willing to entertain it.33 The change in scale would appear to present no intrinsic obstacle to the applicability of RT given the power of human cognition to grasp and conduct a sustained argument. Nor is the change to text as medium a problem – the main implication is that the text itself becomes the most accessible context (or concentric set of contexts) within which the search for relevance takes place. It is the change to a communication situation that is non-immediate and non-reciprocal which presents the greatest challenge to the relevance of relevance. It is suggested by some that literary texts are in some way different from other modes of communication, in such a way that relevance no longer applies or is no longer a useful concept in interpreting them.34 In particular it is alleged that RT tends to indulge the ‘intentional fallacy’.35 These are issues of central importance which we shall continue to address over the following paragraphs, but there are at least three valid lines of approach. First, intentionality is a presumption made before interpreting any communication and is consistently used in the ‘trivial’ pursuit of comprehension, by disambiguation, reference assignment (for example of pronouns), and grammatical parsing, before a more self-conscious interpretation process begins. Secondly, there is the problem (or perhaps impossibility) of defining literary text as a genre.36 How do so-called literary texts signal in non-semantic and non-pragmatic ways that they are literary texts and so require different strategies of interpretation from ordinary texts? Thirdly, literary effects have, as we shall see, been satisfactorily accounted for in RT terms. 33 34

Ibid., p. 158. A vigorous debate on this subject took place on the relevance internet mailing list in late 1999. Unfortunately contributions were not archived before 2000. A similar debate is reflected in K. Green, ‘Butterflies, Wheels and the Search for Literary Relevance’, LL 6 (1997), pp. 133–8; A. Pilkington, B. MacMahon, and B. Clark, ‘Looking for an Argument: A Response to Green’, LL 6 (1997), pp. 139–48. 35 Following W. K. Wimsatt and M. C. Beardsley, ‘The Intentional Fallacy’, in W. K. Wimsatt (ed.), The Verbal Icon: Studies in the Meaning of Poetry (Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky, 1954), pp. 3–18. Note the remark on p. 3: ‘the design or intention of the author is neither available nor desirable as a standard for judging the success of a work of literary art’. 36 Following T. Todorov, Genres in Discourse, trans. Catherine Porter (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), esp. pp. 1–12.

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The People of God in the Apocalypse RT as a tool of literary interpretation

Sperber and Wilson offered accounts based on RT for the working of a wide range of tropes and other literary effects, such as metaphor, irony, or repetition. But its application to genres such as fiction, parable, poetry, or myth must first counter the criticism that RT takes no explicit account of the truth-value of a proposition in assessing its relevance.37 Sperber and Wilson respond to this objection by pointing out that the truth-value of a proposition will have an influence on the ‘cognitive effects’ side of the balance sheet.38 This is developed further in the Postface to the second edition of Relevance. Rejecting the necessity for the input of a cognitive process to be ‘true’ in order to be relevant, the authors assert that the result of processing the input must be ‘positive cognitive effects’, that is, effects that contribute ‘positively to the fulfillment of cognitive functions or goals’.39 Herbert Clark has queried whether RT can account for the layers of meaning involved in fictional writing. He points out that all fiction involves at least two layers, or domains, of communication – between characters in the work and between the author and the reader. Quoting examples from Moby Dick and Hamlet, he argues: Melville and Shakespeare have intentions towards us, but these are not ‘informative’ or ‘communicative intentions’ . . . and the principle of relevance does not apply. So when Melville and Shakespeare ‘communicate’ with us, it is communication of a fundamentally different type . . . even if Relevance Theory could explain how the Nantucket landsmen understood Ishmael and how Ophelia understood Hamlet, it would not explain how we do.40 But RT is certainly able to handle multiple layers of meaning and intentionality. As the authors respond: ‘a first-level act of ostensive communication can serve as an ostensive stimulus for a second-level act of ostensive communication . . . [for example] deliberate ambiguity at one level can 37 See the comments of J. E. Adler, ‘Comparisons with Grice’, BBS 10 (1987), pp. 710–11. 38 See further D. Wilson and D. Sperber, ‘Inference and Implicature’, in C. Travis (ed.), Meaning and Interpretation (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986), pp. 63–5; and D. Wilson and D. Sperber, ‘Representation and Relevance’, in R. Kempson (ed.), Mental Representations: The Interface between Language and Reality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 134–9, where the authors develop the concept of interpretive resemblance of an utterance to the thought it expresses and replace a guarantee of truth by a guarantee of faithfulness. 39 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 2nd edn, p. 265. 40 H. H. Clark, ‘Relevance to What?’, BBS 10 (1987), pp. 714–15.

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be used as a non-ambiguous ostensive stimulus at another level.’41 These considerations would appear to be relevant not just to works of fiction but to any literary work (and thus to biblical interpretation). To the layers suggested by Clark we need to add the implied author–implied audience layer and the possibility of multiple embedded layering within the work itself. Relevance applies on each level, but not only are the potential contexts for each level different (and perhaps embedded), but they exist in different worlds (also potentially embedded). A number of authors have defended and demonstrated RT’s usefulness in literary interpretation.42 Of particular interest is the work of Adrian Pilkington on the use of rhetorical tropes and schemes.43 He develops in some depth the treatment of metaphor already found in Sperber and Wilson, and goes further to consider other schemes and verse effects, such as repetition, metre, rhyme, and alliteration.44 Most importantly, in view of the frequent criticism that RT by focussing on cognitive effects cannot adequately explain the emotive and affective components of a literary text, Pilkington directly addresses the issue of the emotional and attitudinal effects of poetry. He stresses that poetic effects rely on a ‘wide range of assumptions being simultaneously made marginally more salient’.45 Hence the increase in processing effort required by poetic texts: The route of least effort would not lead immediately to the selection or construction of a narrow range of easily accessible contextual assumptions, it would lead to the selection and construction of a wider range of assumptions after a lengthier and more extensive search.46 41 42

Sperber and Wilson, ‘Pr´ecis’, p. 751. For example D. Trotter, ‘Analysing Literary Prose: The Relevance of Relevance Theory’, Lingua 87 (1992), pp. 11–27, who examines the writings of Katherine Mansfield and James Joyce; S. Uchida, ‘Text and Relevance’, in Carston and Uchida, Relevance Theory, pp. 161–78, who uses RT to describe ‘suspense’ and ‘twist’; and more recently I. MacKenzie, Paradigms of Reading: Relevance Theory and Deconstruction (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), who holds that RT offers a better explanation of the force of literature than does the deconstructive theory of Paul de Man. 43 First in A. Pilkington, ‘Poetic Effects’, Lingua 87 (1992), pp. 29–51. Most of my comments are in reference to his Ph.D. thesis, A. Pilkington, ‘Poetic Thoughts and Poetic Effects: A Relevance Theory Account of the Literary Use of Rhetorical Tropes’ (Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University College London, 1994). This work is now published by John Benjamins. For more on a relevance approach to literary style see B. Clark, ‘Stylistic Analysis and Relevance Theory’, LL 5 (1996), pp. 163–78; B. MacMahon, ‘Indirectness, Rhetoric and Interpretive Use: Communication Strategies in Browning’s My Last Duchess’, LL 5 (1996), pp. 207–23; A. Pilkington, ‘Introduction: Relevance Theory and Literary Style’, LL 5 (1996), pp. 157–62. 44 For metaphor see Pilkington, ‘Poetic Thoughts’, pp. 111–53. For schemes and verse effects see pp. 154–75. 45 Ibid., ‘Poetic Thoughts’, p. 176. 46 Ibid.

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His conclusions about the way in which poetic texts influence their audience demonstrate that relevance is not equivalent to ‘easy listening’: Poetry or literary writing encourages us to exercise and develop introspective acuity. The aesthetic qualitative experience it communicates is ‘intensive’ and ‘discriminating’. The achievement of poetic effects requires a wider exploration of contexts that reorganizes encyclopaedic memory and establishes and rearranges links between concepts. Developing introspective acuity is partly a question of encouraging such reorganization and making the links and wide-ranging contextual effects more salient.47 Anne Furlong attempts a wider treatment of literary interpretation under RT, based on her assessment of the weakness of existing approaches because of their common dependence on the code model of communication.48 A significant cornerstone of her construction of a relevancetheoretic approach is the concept of context, which includes information drawn from the preceding text and the situation in which an utterance is made (and by whom: narrator or characters); but it also involves other knowledge, beliefs or assumptions the reader uses in interpretation . . . it is information that the reader can call to mind at the time he is reading the work.49 Careful readers are led to expend more processing effort than is required to reach a first meaning by the existence of features of the text (lexical, stylistic, structural etc.) which are unnecessary or unaccounted for by the effects of that first meaning: There are two ways, then, in which unaccommodated elements of the text can be treated. They may be evidence of stylistic failure on the writer’s part; or they may be evidence that the optimally relevant intended interpretation has not yet been found.50 Furlong goes on to deal in detail with a number of features of literature, overlapping with Pilkington.51 But the most important contribution of this work for our present purposes is the distinction she makes between 47 48

Ibid., ‘Poetic Thoughts’, p. 220. A. Furlong, ‘Relevance Theory and Literary Interpretation’ (Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University College London, 1996), pp. 6–25. 49 Ibid., p. 60. 50 Ibid., p. 71. 51 See especially her treatment of indeterminacy and poetic effects (pp. 81–133), repetition (pp. 151–70), and irony (pp. 170–87).

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exegetical and eisegetical interpretations. Exegetical interpretations are further distinguished as spontaneous or literary. Both of these ‘depend crucially on the reader recognizing the writer’s intentions’.52 The difference between them is that while a spontaneous interpretation (such as a casual reader or inexperienced reader might make) may reach optimal relevance for that reader, insufficient effort has been expended to achieve an optimally relevant interpretation of the text.53 Contrasted with both of these are eisegetical interpretations, which always, or mostly, go beyond what is warranted by the criterion of consistency with the principle of relevance. They involve actual rather than intended relevance, and involve looking for the greatest possible effect in return for the smallest possible effort: that is, maximal rather than optimal relevance.54 It is in this category that she classifies the many ‘interested’ interpretations of literature which ‘do not typically aim to recognize the writer’s overt intentions so much as they aim to discover accidental or covert information transfer’.55 These include literary-historical, socioeconomic, feminist, psychoanalytic, or political interpretations, which Furlong prefers to call ‘commentaries’ or varieties of eisegetical interpretation. However, the fundamental point about literary interpretation is that ‘precisely because literary works are cases of ostensive-inferential communication we are justified in producing interpretations (exegetical, both spontaneous and literary) of them’.56 It is suggested by some, including some advocates of RT, that the theory is able to explain an interpretation but does not provide a list of instructions for making one. This is, in many ways, a helpful distinction to make. Explaining interpretations is the work of criticism, and there is general agreement that RT is useful in this regard. But Furlong has argued, convincingly in my view, that making interpretations is also guided by the search for relevance, whether optimal relevance (in the case of spontaneous or literary interpretations) or maximal relevance (in the case of eisegetical interpretations). The search for relevance is an unconscious influence, rather than a focussed tool, in all cases. In addition it is questionable whether the distinction between making and explaining an interpretation is rigorously valid. For in explaining an interpretation (of a text) one is also making an interpretation but of a different text, namely 52 53

Ibid., p. 199. See the whole treatment on pp. 189–98. 54 Ibid., p. 194. 55 Ibid., p. 199. Ibid., p. 195.

56

Ibid.

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of the interpretation of which the original text is the sub-text. A more helpful distinction will be suggested in the following section. Ostensive communication and the question of intentionality Central to many of the concerns we have discussed with regard to the applicability of RT to literary interpretation is the requirement under RT to treat texts as examples of ostensive communication in a mutual cognitive environment. This is seen to conflict with the dominant paradigm of contemporary literary criticism, namely that the author’s context and intentions are inaccessible and unnecessary to interpretation. Ricoeur’s ‘threefold semantic autonomy’ of the text suggests that a text is cut off from its author’s intentions and from its original context, and is no longer able to refer ostensively.57 Several points in favour of RT can be made in this regard. First, RT does treat a text as a record of a genuine communication event. And in this regard, Gibbs has pointed out that the attribution of intentions is a normal part of the human understanding process: ‘We ordinarily attribute intentions to other people and animals in a wide variety of everyday interactions.’58 He goes on to argue that the same applies to the interpretation of texts, as well as utterances or even artworks: How ordinary readers, listeners, and expert critics understand and form interpretations of meaning requires cognitive effort that takes place in real time, starting with the first moments when people move their eyes across a page . . . up to later moments when we consciously, deliberatively reflect upon what has been seen or read . . . [C]ritics often ignore considerations of what is known about how people actually experience meaning, including the possibility that people immediately, and unconsciously, seek out authorial intentions when they read . . .59 Secondly, we should note that RT does not guarantee the recovery of the author’s intended meaning. The one assumption which must be correctly 57 P. Ricoeur, Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth: Texas Christian University Press, 1976), p. 30; P. Ricoeur, Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), p. 145. See also K. Vanhoozer, Biblical Narrative in the Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), p. 109, n. 7. 58 R. W. Gibbs, Intentions in the Experience of Meaning (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 5. 59 Ibid., p. 15. See also his extensive treatment of literary interpretation, pp. 234–72.

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conveyed for communication to take place is the Communicative Intention, which establishes the conditions for ostensive communication.60 Thereafter the form of the communication (for example the text itself) suggests a double responsibility for meaning. Thus, on the one hand, It is left to the communicator to make correct assumptions about the codes and contextual information that the audience will have accessible and be likely to use in the comprehension process. The responsibility for avoiding misunderstandings also lies with the speaker, so that all the hearer has to do is go ahead and use whatever code and contextual information come most readily to hand.61 But on the other hand, ‘Fulfilment of the communicator’s informative intentions is in the hands of the audience and this is itself mutually manifest.’62 Central to both directions of interest is the mutual cognitive environment of communicator and audience or, more simply, context. The audience is entitled to use the text within the mutual cognitive environment to determine the author’s informative intentions. This will suggest a way for the scholar to engage with the text. But first we must consider the factors unique to the interpretation of literary texts, including the Bible. It is necessary in considering literary texts to distinguish synchronic from diachronic communication situations. The original communication event in which the author transmitted her writings to a particular audience (which may or may not be explicitly defined) is a synchronic situation. Two types of communication situation can be described as diachronic: the situation of subsequent ordinary readers of the text, cut off from the original context; and that of the scholar studying either of the previous two situations. The problem in each case is to establish whether there is a mutual cognitive environment within which the search for relevance can be seen to guide both author and audience. In the original communication event there can be little doubt of the existence of a large number of shared cognitive contexts, beginning from the text itself and widening to include the life situations of the audience and author (including a large set of mutually manifest assumptions concerning history, geography, culture, and language), and an array of other texts (oral and written) to which the author can assume the audience has access. Relevance is most certainly an operating principle in the author’s construction of the text and in the audience’s interpretation of it. 60

See p. 16 above.

61

Relevance, p. 43.

62

Ibid., p. 60.

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By virtue of committing a text to writing an author implicitly offers it to a wider and less clearly defined audience, or indeed to ‘anyone who finds it relevant’. Nevertheless, there may well be a greater degree of shared cognitive environment than is at first apparent. Once again it begins with the text itself, but this context can be widened (contra Ricoeur). The author will assume that her wider audience shares assumptions derived from membership of a particular linguistic, or cultural, or national community. These may be quite specific, as in the case that will concern us in this study of a community of faith, where other texts, beliefs, traditions, and practices may well be assumed. Ostensive reference within such contexts is possible, though deixis may at times be problematic.63 The more removed the audience, the smaller is the extent of the mutual cognitive environment. This will not diminish the importance of the search for relevance in the audience’s interpretation of the text, but it will mean a progressive loss in confidence that the derived meaning in any way represents the author’s intentions.64 Contemporary secular use of apocalyptic language would appear to be a case in point. The scholar or critic is a special case of the ‘subsequent ordinary reader’. The considerations of shared context just noted therefore apply. Scholars are more self-conscious in their search for meaning, but are nonetheless guided both directly and indirectly by the principle of relevance.65 Indirectly, the assumption that the communication to original or subsequent ordinary readers operated by the principle of relevance reaffirms the fundamental importance of historical-critical research, in order to discover the nature of the mutual cognitive environments within which the communication and its interpretation took place.66 Directly, relevance 63 Deixis is a characteristically pragmatic concept, which Levinson, Pragmatics, p. 54 defines in the following way: ‘The term is borrowed from the Greek word for pointing or indicating, and has as prototypical exemplars the use of demonstratives, first and second person pronouns, tense, specific time and place adverbs like now and here, and a variety of other grammatical features tied directly to the circumstances of utterance . . . Essentially deixis concerns the ways in which languages encode or grammaticalize features of the context of utterance or speech event’ (bold type in the original). 64 In the limiting case, the audience’s interests dominate, subvert, or eliminate the author’s. This is similar to Furlong’s ‘eisegetical interpretation’ and to the ‘socio-pragmatic hermeneutics’ extensively critiqued by Thiselton (see below, p. 33). 65 This is true even though the author can have had no intention to communicate to later scholars, or to subject her communication to their scrutiny. G. B. Caird, New Testament Theology (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), p. 2, comments of the biblical authors: ‘They never dreamt that what they wrote would, centuries later, be subjected to the microscopic scrutiny of modern biblical scholarship, providing in every unusual phrase and every unexpressed assumption matter for a doctoral dissertation.’ 66 Again this interest which RT both exemplifies and explains was anticipated by Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding’, p. 63: ‘The essential question which we therefore confront,

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influences the work of scholars and critics even if they are unaware of it, because their conclusions will be those that, in their opinion, best explain the data available, i.e. are optimally relevant to them. This suggests the need for caution when the text appears to yield no adequate meaning as it stands. Rather than quickly proposing textual emendations or attributing the current text to the work of editors or redactors, it may be necessary to admit that there is failure of relevance on the diachronic level rather than on the synchronic.67 But even more directly, to ‘use Relevance Theory’ in the interpretation of texts is to bring to conscious focus a factor which is operative whether or not the interpreter is aware of it. It involves examining how the form of the text might have achieved optimal relevance, interacting with the reader’s cognitive environment(s) to produce good cognitive effects. It will involve careful analysis of the output of historical-critical research to determine which cognitive environments may have been more accessible than others, yielding good cognitive effects without gratuitous processing effort. Thus by investigating the ‘readers’ meaning’, and with the assumption that the author is aiming for optimal relevance with respect to her intended meaning, the scholar is provided with the best possible clues to the author’s intentions.68 2.4

Relevance Theory and the Bible

Relevance Theory has provided a robust and adaptable explanation for the mechanisms of human communication, including those involved in the production and reception of literary texts. To the extent that the Bible in studying any given text, is what its author, in writing at the time he did write for the audience he intended to address, could in practice have been intending to communicate by the utterance of this given utterance.’ 67 Note the comment by historian R. H. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1946), pp. 218–19: ‘When he finds certain historical matters unintelligible, he has discovered a limitation of his own mind; he has discovered that there are certain ways in which he is not, or no longer, or not yet, able to think. Certain historians, sometimes whole generations of historians, find in certain periods of history nothing intelligible, and call them dark ages; but such phrases tell us nothing about these ages themselves, though they tell us a great deal about the persons who use them, namely that they are unable to rethink the thoughts which were fundamental to their life.’ 68 Another level on which relevance considerations influence the scholar is in the communication of their work. I presume, for example, that anyone reading this volume is prepared to expend considerably more processing effort in the pursuit of fruitful cognitive effects than the average reader. I also assume a mutual cognitive environment that includes not only a vast array of texts, but also sets of conventions for referring to them, and a specialized semantic domain. The responsibility for inferring my intentions, however, lies with the reader, who is entitled to access these environments in such a way as to achieve optimal relevance.

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is a human book and relies on human language, or indeed to the extent that God has entrusted his self-revelation to human language, Relevance Theory must offer potentially fruitful ways of exploring the meaning of the text.69 Yet few biblical scholars have up to this point drawn on its insights. Cotterell and Turner noted its usefulness with regard to the analysis of conversation, but did not work out the implications in detail.70 Garrow’s short commentary on Revelation, which uses RT to a limited extent, has already been mentioned. But, with the exception of scholars working in the field of Bible translation, little work has been done to apply the insights of RT to biblical text. In this section we shall briefly survey the translation field and then examine the implications of RT for the intertextual reference of the Bible (particularly the Apocalypse) and for the interpretation of imagery. But first a note on recent work in related pragmatic disciplines is in order. RT and Speech Act Theory Discourse analysis and Speech Act Theory, two linguistic theories or methodologies that arise from the same field of pragmatics as RT, have made considerable impact on recent biblical studies. The primary context of any text is the co-text with which it comes. Thus discourse analysis, the study of the pragmatic structure of texts, is of critical importance throughout this present study and is discussed in detail elsewhere.71 But Speech Act Theory, introduced to the arena of biblical interpretation by Anthony Thiselton, is no less closely related.72 Although he nowhere mentions RT, very similar pragmatic interests are at the heart of Thiselton’s own hermeneutic, as illustrated by his programmatic statement: ‘In particular, what effects biblical texts produce on thought and on life, and especially on what basis these effects come about not only challenges our theological integrity but also constitutes a burning concern for all who have some interest in the nurture of faith and its communication in the 69 I have explored elsewhere the implications of the Christian doctrine that the Bible is not only a human book but is divinely inspired. See especially Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 38–45. 70 P. Cotterell and M. Turner, Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 1989), specifically pp. 270–1 but also implied earlier, pp. 90–2. 71 For a brief discussion and the results of the analysis (presented fully in Discourse Structure) see Chapter 3, pp. 60–7 below. 72 See the note in Thiselton, New Horizons, p. 17, and his extensive use of it throughout this work. For the origins of Speech Act Theory see J. L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962); J. R. Searle, Speech Acts: An Essay in the Philosophy of Language (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969).

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modern world.’73 It is from precisely this standpoint that he criticizes what he calls ‘socio-pragmatic hermeneutics’ with its interest in ‘the effect of the text on me and my community’, an approach which he says ‘turns on its head, and reverses, the emancipatory critiques, or liberation hermeneutics, which socio-critical hermeneutics sets in motion’, eliminates the transforming power of the text, and thus ‘ultimately betrays the function which hermeneutics arose to perform’.74 The theological and hermeneutic implications of Speech Act Theory, which sees language not merely as communicating facts but as performing actions, which in turn have consequences, has been developed notably by Thiselton, Wolterstorff, and Vanhoozer.75 But only Vanhoozer has noted the parallel significance of Relevance Theory.76 He is theologically cautious about the theoretical grounding when he says ‘For Sperber and Wilson, language is essentially a cognitive rather than communicative tool that enables an organism (or device) to process information’, and then opposes this to a ‘transcendent’ view of language in which ‘God underwrites language’ (George Steiner).77 But here he seems to miss some of the greatest significance of RT. Certainly language in the narrow sense as ‘a grammar-governed representational system’ is essentially cognitive and mechanistic. And in this sense human language is only more complex than animal language and more subtle than machine language. But this is only a starting point from which RT sets out to investigate the way in which human communication breaks these bounds. The subtitle of Sperber and Wilson’s work is, after all, Communication and Cognition. It seems, then, that when Vanhoozer cites with approval Steiner’s dictum that ‘God underwrites language’, he is really referring to what RT calls communication, rather than the narrower definition of language. Despite these reservations, Vanhoozer does claim that RT has a significant contribution to the task of biblical interpretation, although he does not develop this in any detail.78 It is RT’s claim that the recognition and function of speech acts is explained by the search for optimal relevance.

73 74

Thiselton, New Horizons, p. 2. Ibid., pp. 7, 539. See also his extended critiques (pp. 393–405 and 545–50 respectively) of such approaches, exemplified by Rorty and Fish. 75 See N. Wolterstorff, Divine Discourse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995) and the several Speech Act contributions in C. Bartholomew, C. Greene, and K. M¨oller (eds.), After Pentecost: Language and Biblical Interpretation (Scripture and Hermeneutics, 2; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001). 76 K. Vanhoozer, ‘From Speech Acts to Scripture Acts: The Covenant of Discourse and the Discourse of the Covenant’, in Bartholomew et al., After Pentecost, pp. 1–49. 77 Vanhoozer, ‘From Speech Acts’, p. 2. 78 Ibid., pp. 10–14, 22, 26, 39–44.

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RT was introduced to the Bible translation community primarily by ErnstAugust Gutt, and it is in this community that the theory has first been brought to bear on biblical text in any detail.79 This has been a contested approach, and arguments both for and against continue in the literature.80 Space permits only a brief examination of Gutt’s thesis and some of the criticisms of it. Gutt’s appropriation of RT for translation is focussed on the concept of interpretive resemblance of thoughts and utterances, and the ‘guarantee of faithfulness’ which RT claims accompanies any utterance.81 Gutt’s focus on utterances, rather than underlying propositional forms, is constrained by the fact that not all real-language utterances have propositional form.82 ‘Interpretive resemblance’ becomes not only a theoretical notion but a criterion of faithfulness of translation (and, by implication, of interpretation). Gutt criticizes contemporary approaches to Bible translation as either focussed entirely on linguistically encoded information or as attempting to explicate and thus fix what are really indeterminate elements of the context.83 His test case is Matthew 2, as treated by R. T. France, who discusses the possibility of a text being deliberately composed with layers of 79 His lectures at the 1991 UBS Triennial Translation Workshop, E.-A. Gutt, Relevance Theory: A Guide to Successful Communication in Translation (Dallas: SIL, 1992), provide a relatively easy way into the discussion. For a fuller treatment see E.-A. Gutt, Translation and Relevance: Cognition and Context (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1991). Note also R. Blass, Relevance Relations in Discourse: A Study with Special Reference to Sissala (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). 80 On the positive side see, for example, D. van Grootheest, ‘Relevance Theory and Bible Translation’ (Unpublished Doctoraalscriptie thesis, Amsterdam: Free University, 1996); K. Smith, ‘Translation Theory as Secondary Communication: The Relevance Theory Perspective of Ernst-August Gutt’, in J. A. Naud´e and C. H. J. van der Merwe (eds.), Contemporary Translation Studies and Bible Translation: A South African Perspective (Acta Theologica 2000 Supplementum 2, Bloemfontain: University of the Free State, 2002), pp. 107–17; on the negative, E. Wendland, ‘A Review of “Relevance Theory” in Relation to Bible Translation in South-Central Africa’, Part 1, JNSL 22 (1996), pp. 91–106; Part 2, JNSL 23 (1997), pp. 83–108. For more references see Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 29–30. 81 Gutt, Translation, pp. 34, 39–44. See Wilson and Sperber, ‘Representation and Relevance’, pp. 138–9. 82 See Gutt, Translation, p. 44: ‘two utterances, or even more generally, two ostensive stimuli, interpretively resemble one another to the extent that they share their explicatures and/or implicatures. This notion of interpretive resemblance is independent of whether or not the utterances in question have a propositional form, but at the same time it is contextdependent, since the explicatures and implicatures of the utterance are context-dependent.’ 83 His characterization of the approaches of, respectively, the United Bible Societies and the Summer Institute of Linguistics. Gutt, Translation, pp. 66–9, 73.

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meaning, intended for different audiences with different presuppositions and backgrounds.84 This view of multiple intended meanings ‘is quite consistent with relevance theory’.85 Gutt considers translation as interlingual interpretive usage, a definition that allows for both indirect and direct translation (which correspond to indirect and direct quotation), depending on the requirements of the environment and audience. The most coherent critic of this approach has been Ernst Wendland, whose criticisms have as much to do with the validity of RT as an interpretive tool as with its application to translation.86 At their heart is his concern that Gutt’s claim that RT alone can explain the translation process does not do justice to the complexities of the task.87 Gutt’s approach is, by his own admission, reductionist, but only on a theoretical level, since if translation is a type of communication, then RT, as a communication theory, must explain it. This does not eliminate the need to wrestle with ‘problems of discernment, assessment, and choice’. Wendland finds problems with both sides of the RT equation, processing effort and contextual effects, as well as the concept of ‘context’ itself. His criticism of the cognitive environment definition of context as idiosyncratic has some point.88 But ‘context’ has been such an ill-defined concept in both linguistic and biblical studies that the more precise definition of RT is a major step forwards. It is only as the wider ‘context’ features as part of a person’s mental life that it affects their understanding of linguistic or other stimuli. Further, the fact that context in RT includes the contributions not only of text and co-text, but also of extra-linguistic context, makes it more comprehensive as well as being precise.89 84 Ibid., pp. 70–2; R. T. France, ‘The Formula-quotations of Matthew 2 and the Problem of Communication’, NTS 27 (1981), pp. 233–51. For a discussion of how RT explains this, see Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 31–2. For the deliberate use of the technique of ‘concealment’ by later Gnostic teachers see J. L. Kovacs, ‘Divine Pedagogy and the Gnostic Teacher according to Clement of Alexandria’, JECS 9 (2001), pp. 17–25; R. D. Young, ‘Evagrius the Iconographer: Monastic Pedagogy in the Gnostikos’, JECS 9 (2001), pp. 58–61. 85 Gutt, Translation, p. 72. 86 As well as his ‘Review’, see also E. Wendland, ‘A Tale of Two Debtors: On the Interaction of Text, Co-text, and Context in a New Testament Dramatic Narrative (Luke 7:36–50)’, in D. A. Black (ed.), Linguistics and New Testament Interpretation (Nashville: Broadman, 1992), pp. 101–43; and ‘On the Relevance of “Relevance Theory” for Bible Translation’, BT 47 (1996), pp. 126–37. 87 Wendland, ‘Two Debtors’, pp. 136–41; Wendland, ‘Review’, Part 1, pp. 91–2, 98–9. 88 Wendland, ‘Review’, Part 1, pp. 95–6. 89 Wendland’s careful, multi-level analysis of Luke 7:36–50 (‘Two Debtors’) makes use of precisely the kind of complex but well-defined context that RT assumes – text, co-text, and context.

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Wendland is concerned that RT implies an ‘easy listening’ approach to all communication and ignores the case of ‘literarily competent individuals’ and texts designed for such readers; that to focus on ‘cognitive effects’ is to ignore intuitive and evocative effects (such as are achieved by poetry); and that RT’s reader-centred approach to understanding texts undermines the text’s ability to surprise and challenge the assumptions of the readers.90 However, these concerns significantly underestimate the subtlety with which RT explains how literary texts achieve their effects, and the ways in which cognitive effects create the conditions for the communication of values, feelings, and desires. Furthermore, as we have already seen, although RT works primarily from the point of view of the reader, it privileges the author’s intended communicative intentions.91 Wendland’s criticisms stem from a serious concern for faithfulness to the biblical message in the translation task. His suggestions for a broaderbased approach reflect the high degree of both scholarship and skill that he brings to the task.92 Nevertheless, I believe his criticism of RT and its importance for biblical interpretation and translation to be unwarranted. RT does not supplant semantic, syntactic, structural, or literary analysis. It both undergirds and guides them. And Gutt’s work is important for bringing it to bear on biblical text. Relevance, intertextuality, and the Apocalypse RT’s interests in the nature and importance of cognitive environments relates it closely to the study of intertextuality.93 At the broadest level, according to Jonathan Culler, intertextuality is ‘less a name for a work’s relation to prior texts than a designation of its participation in the discursive space of a culture’.94 This is a perspective that RT would affirm. Every act of communication is understood against a background of cognitive environments which the interlocutors share by their participation in a 90 91

For these criticisms see, Wendland, ‘Review’, Part 1, pp. 94, 102–5. For a more detailed defence of RT in the face of these criticisms see my Discourse Structure, pp. 29–38. 92 Note also his comment in Wendland, ‘On the Relevance of Relevance Theory’, p. 134, ‘the RT approach is extremely useful for Bible translators to become familiar with – if modified, or perhaps rephrased . . . and carefully integrated within a more explicitly comprehensive text-context oriented, structure-functional methodology’ (italics in the original). As will be seen, this is precisely the role that I see RT taking within the process of exegesis. 93 For a more detailed treatment of this field of interaction see S. Pattemore, ‘Relevance Theory, Intertextuality, and the Book of Revelation’, in P. Noss (ed.), Current Trends in Scripture Translation (UBS Bulletin, 194/195, Reading: UBS, 2003), pp. 43–60. 94 J. Culler, The Pursuit of Signs: Semiotics, Literature, Deconstruction (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1981), p. 103.

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common culture, and which includes much more than the current discourse or any set of related discourses. But it is also necessary to say that not all parts of the ‘discursive space of a culture’ are equally accessible to the participants in a particular act of communication. RT requires that that space be evaluated in terms of concentric and intersecting spheres of accessibility (the ‘processing effort’ side of the equation) and productivity (the ‘cognitive effects’ side). Such an approach is responsible to the pragmatics of real communication, while yet leaving ample room for the allusive/elusive/illusive power of weak implicature. Nevertheless, with respect to a literary text in a literary culture, some degree of special consideration must be given to the relationship of the text in focus to already-existing literary texts. Richard Hays’ development from the earlier work of C. H. Dodd is largely consistent with the insights of RT.95 Drawing on the work of John Hollander, Hays describes the functioning of textual echoes in terms of a ‘diachronic trope’ which Hollander calls transumption or metalepsis: ‘When a literary echo links the text in which it occurs to an earlier text, the figurative effect of the echo can lie in the unstated or suppressed (transumed) points of resonance between the two texts.’96 This requires that the wider context of a quotation or allusion is formative for its interpretation in its new setting, or, as Hollander puts it, ‘the interpretation of a metalepsis entails the recovery of the transumed material’.97 The explicit point of contact between two texts can thus be a nexus for an implicit flow of meaning between texts.98 Hays claims that not only faint echoes but also explicit quotations often function by means of metalepsis, and that sensitivity to the wider context of the original setting of a quotation is thus a necessary hermeneutical strategy.99 There is no claim that the context is treated in a ‘historical-critical’ sense, but rather it is a field of suggestion and evocation of ideas. In this it is also strongly resonant with RT’s emphasis on the contribution of implicatures established within mutual cognitive environments to the meaning 95 R. B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989); cf. C. H. Dodd, According to the Scriptures: The Substructure of New Testament Theology (London: Collins, 1952). 96 Hays, Echoes, p. 20; see J. Hollander, The Figure of an Echo: A Mode of Allusion in Milton and After (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981). 97 Hollander, The Figure of an Echo, p. 115. 98 It is not claimed that every quotation or allusion necessarily entails a large amount of transumed material. Metalepsis is, like other figures of speech, a deliberately and artistically used tool for the evocation of meaning. Again, as with other figures of speech, there will often be an asymmetry between its intended and received effects. 99 Hays, Echoes, p. 24.

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of communication, and in particular the treatment of poetic effects as achieving their effect through ‘a wide array of weak implicatures’.100 Hays places all intertextual allusion along a continuous spectrum, from direct quotation to weak allusion or echo, and, like Sperber and Wilson, affirms the indeterminacy of weak implicatures, where the reader must assume more responsibility for making the connection.101 Hays’ approach, then, is strongly supported by RT’s cognitive description of the communication process, particularly if we accept the suggestion of C. A. Evans that the field in which the original voices of the echoes are to be found must include ‘interpreted scripture’ and non-scriptural texts.102 The first five of Hays’ criteria for the validity of an echo – availability, volume, recurrence, thematic coherence, and historical plausibility – all relate to the RT criterion of the accessibility of a context in terms of processing effort, while the remaining two – history of interpretation and satisfaction – relate to the RT concept of contextual effects.103 But we are still talking here about what might be called textual spaces, or cognitive environments defined by other texts. RT asserts that anything, so long as it can be mentally represented, can contribute to the cognitive environment within which relevance is to be sought. As I have already observed, this is in line with the broadest definitions of intertextuality, where the potential field of reference is the whole ‘discursive space of a culture’. Two things need to be said in this regard. First, while affirming the dependence of all texts on a broad resonant space for their meaning, RT does not require the imposition of an ideologically driven destabilization of meaning, prevalent in some discussions of intertextuality.104 It is 100 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, p. 222. See their whole section on poetic effects, pp. 217–24. 101 Hays, Echoes, p. 23. Hays explicitly acknowledges that texts give rise to meanings other than those intended by the author, or even those allowed by the later exegete: ‘texts can generate readings that transcend both the conscious intention of the author and all the hermeneutical strictures that we promulgate’ (Hays, Echoes, p. 33). See also Dodd, According to the Scriptures, p. 131, and compare Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, pp. 199– 200. 102 C. A. Evans, ‘Listening for Echoes of Interpreted Scripture’, in C. A. Evans and J. A. Sanders (eds.), Paul and the Scriptures of Israel (JSNTSup, 83; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), pp. 47–51. 103 Hays, Echoes, pp. 29–31. 104 Hays rightly rejects the criticism of Green that he works with a minimalist understanding of intertextuality, since he refuses to use it as an ideological tool. He has, as he points out, deliberately set aside the radical cynicism of Bloom, Kristeva, and Barthes for the more positive appreciation of the functioning of textual echoes in Hollander. See W. S. Green, ‘Doing the Text’s Work for it: Richard Hays on Paul’s Use of Scripture’, in Evans and Sanders, Paul and the Scriptures of Israel, pp. 59–63; R. B. Hays, ‘On the Rebound: A Response to Critiques of Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul’, in Evans and Sanders, Paul and the Scriptures of Israel, pp. 79–81.

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inherently constructive rather than deconstructive. Secondly, it may be that at precisely this point, RT can help to clarify the terminology. For if ‘intertextuality’ is taken to mean the influence of everything on a text, it ceases to be a useful term, and its core morpheme, /text/, is drained of all distinctive meaning or significance. If everything is ‘text’, then /text/ is nothing. In RT terms, I suggest then that ‘intertextuality’ be reserved for relevance found within textually defined cognitive environments, where a text is a (relatively stable) sequence of language. The remainder, the influence of lives and events, geography and culture, is relevance found within non-textually defined cognitive environments. The sum of the two is simply relevance. John’s Apocalypse is unique among NT documents in that, while it contains no explicit quotations from the Old Testament, its whole fabric is a closely woven tapestry of verbal allusion and evocation of both biblical and extra-biblical text.105 Beale has provided a useful review of several recent authors who attempt to describe Revelation’s relationship to earlier scriptures.106 Three of these are briefly evaluated here from a relevance perspective. Paulien’s insistence that the best way to understand the book is to put ourselves in the place of the original readers and ‘tune our ears to the meanings they would have taken for granted’ is consistent with the principles of relevance.107 But the distinction between echo and allusion, though valid in itself, depends for Paulien on the consciousness or intention of the author.108 Fekkes appeals even more explicitly to authorial intent in attempting to distinguish between an informal quotation and an allusion.109 While RT supports the place of the author’s intentions, and especially the assumption of intentionality, in the communication event, any attempt to make the distinction from our perspective by appeal to the author’s motivation begs the question of whether this is directly accessible to us at all, except through the text itself. And what difference it would 105 The secondary literature on the use of scripture and other writings in Revelation is immense. In addition to references listed in Chapter 1, nn. 15–17, see Swete, Apocalypse, pp. cxl–clviii; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. lxii–lxxxvi; A. Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (HDR, 9; Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976); Aune, ‘Intertextuality’; Jack, Text Reading Texts; Linton, ‘Reading the Apocalypse’; S. Moyise, ‘Intertextuality and the Book of Revelation’, ExpTim 104 (1993), pp. 295–8; J. Paulien, ‘The Book of Revelation and the Old Testament’, BR 43 (1998), pp. 61–9. 106 Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament, pp. 13–59. 107 Paulien, Decoding, pp. 5–6. 108 Ibid., pp. 172–3. 109 Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 64–5. For Fekkes, a ‘formal’ quotation is one which is introduced as such in the text by at least a minimal formula. There do not appear to be any formal quotations in Revelation, hence the importance of informal quotations. His ‘allusion’ would appear to be close to Paulien’s ‘echo’.

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make if we could determine whether or not the author was conscious of the origin of his language. Does the absence of authorial consciousness really make the original context irrelevant, as Paulien appears to imply? On the other hand, Fekkes’ criteria for determining authorial motivation are largely centred on the text in its context, and are generally compatible with relevance considerations. Less defensible is his distinction between an informal quotation and an allusion, given the possible change in language between source and text, the existence of various textual traditions, and the possibility of extempore translation. In any case, how does it advance our understanding of a text if we distinguish between a quotation and an allusion? If an allusion is deliberate and recognizable, then it is equivalent to a quotation because it conveys communicative propositions like ‘I have taken this idea from the former text’ and ‘the former text has something to contribute to your understanding of my meaning’ as cognitive effects. Even a formal quotation may convey no more than this, in terms of communicative intents.110 Moyise was the first to apply Hays’ intertextual approach explicitly to Revelation.111 He develops this further in The Old Testament in the Book of Revelation, where his particular interest is not so much which texts are echoed by which verses, but how John appropriates the older texts, to what extent he imitates, controls, or reinterprets them, whether or not he provides a definitive interpretation of them for the reader.112 But for Moyise, it is the text of the OT, rather than the social and geographical environment of the ‘seven churches’, which forms the primary context within which to understand the text of Revelation.113 From the perspective of RT, this is only partly true. Cognitive environments defined by prior texts must always be evaluated alongside those defined by local situations to determine which yields the most positive cognitive effects for the least processing effort.114 The priority claimed by Moyise of earlier texts over situational context cannot be taken for granted and must be evaluated in each instance.115 110 111 112

See Hays, Echoes, p. 24. Moyise, ‘Intertextuality and the Book of Revelation’. Moyise, The Old Testament, especially pp. 20–3 and ch. 6, ‘Revelation and Intertextuality’, pp. 108–38. 113 Ibid., p. 36. See further ch. 1, pp. 4–5 above, and pp. 54–7 below. 114 As Moyise, The Old Testament, p. 125, notes in another context, ‘As well as playing on the “evocative power” of texts, John may well be playing on the “evocative power” of shared experiences.’ 115 Bauckham, Climax, pp. x–xiii, emphasizes the fact that both prior text and situational context are important for understanding Revelation.

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How, then, does an author like John use prior texts? Does the original context determine use in the new context, or vice versa? Is there a useful distinction between a conscious allusion and an accidental echo? Relevance considerations would appear to offer a way out of these somewhat confusing dichotomies.116 RT would not attempt to prejudge the author’s intentionality by appeal to other criteria, but would seek to access it through an evaluation of how an audience might optimize the relevance of the text itself. First we concentrate on the audience’s perception. We assume that the OT and other prior texts are part of a mutual cognitive environment, forming a context which the author can presume she shares with her audience.117 Then we assume that the author has communicated with a view to optimizing relevance. Thus whether the relationship of a statement to a previous text is an ‘informal quotation’, an ‘allusion’, or an ‘echo’ is scarcely relevant. What is relevant is whether the author has made manifest only the assumptions expressed by the statement (its explicatures) and those implicatures entailed by the immediate context, or in addition, the assumption that she used a particular source for her language. This distinction is to be made on the criterion of optimizing relevance. In the former case, even if the audience perceive a source, any further implicatures taken from the source are entirely the audience’s responsibility. In the latter case, the audience may reasonably assume that the author wishes them to explore the source context for further implicatures. In the former case the source context could be said to be weakly open (or ‘ajar’); in the latter case it is strongly open (‘agape’).118 It would seem, then, that a more valid distinction, between what I shall call ‘contextual evocation’ and ‘conventional usage’, might be established using RT: 116 Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament, p. 28, tends to cloud the issue emotively when he speaks of ‘the vexed question of whether or not John uses the Old Testament contextually in line with the original meaning of Old Testament passages or whether he merely uses Old Testament wording, twisting and disregarding the original meaning to suit the new situation’ (my italics). This does not allow for the possibility that John’s use may be both responsible to the OT context and yet creative. 117 Bauckham, Climax, p. xi, goes much further than this when he says that the OT ‘forms a body of literature which John expects his readers to know and explicitly recall in detail while reading his own work’. This appears to read his own presuppositions back into the mind of John. His view that canonical scripture will be more important than non-canonical texts may well be correct (their status may mean that they are more readily evoked), but it is not a necessary starting assumption. 118 Thus even in the first case, further contextual implicatures drawn from the source context may contribute good contextual effects and increase relevance. But these are largely the audience’s responsibility and illustrate the asymmetric nature of the communication event.

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An OT (or other source) text is contextually evoked if the audience need to access the original context of the text, and add it to their cognitive environment, in order to optimize the relevance of the author’s statement in their contemporary context. An OT (or other source) text is used conventionally if the audience can optimize relevance within the mutual cognitive environment of author and audience, without access to the original context of the embedded text.119 But even this cannot be a bi-polar distinction. As we have already seen, RT requires that the two conditions described be seen as points on a continuum.120 Every use of an earlier text brings with it some context. The audience assume optimal relevance and search available contexts for ones that will provide this. If adequate contextual effects are obtained in a near context (for example first-century Christian practice and belief), then there is no need to open less accessible contexts (for example the book of a minor prophet, or an obscure text in 2 Chronicles). On the other hand, there may be clues in the text that further processing of the source context will be rewarded by additional contextual effects. These could include elements in the text that remain unexplained by the near context, or that require considerable effort to process without returning significant contextual effects. In any case, how much of the source context is explored is a continuously variable quantity, and is itself determined by the principle of relevance: just sufficient to optimize the relevance of the author’s usage.121 This way of looking at intertextual relationships does not eliminate all subjectivity, but it does go some way to reducing it because we are no longer trying to discriminate the same categories as before. Relevance Theory suggests a way of understanding intertextual allusion that respects 119 This is similar to Paulien’s ‘echo’. Note what he says (Paulien, Decoding, pp. 175–6): ‘In order to understand an “echo” as John did, we must go back to the origin of the idea(s), but without the assumption that John was consciously pointing to a particular background passage when he included the idea(s) in Revelation. Such a “live symbol” has become divorced from its original context . . . What matters is the basic meaning of the concept which had attained a fairly fixed content by New Testament times.’ See also the comments of A. Farrer, The Revelation of St. John the Divine (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964), pp. 53–4. 120 See Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, p. 23, and Hays, Echoes, pp. 199–200. 121 See D. Blakemore, Semantic Constraints on Relevance (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987), p. 112, ‘the Principle of Relevance entitles the hearer to interpret every utterance in the smallest and most immediately accessible context to yield an adequate range of contextual effects’. This does not deny the possibility of extensive contextual reference built up by a network of allusions to the same passage, as suggested by Bauckham, Climax, p. xi. A second allusion is more readily perceived because the context has already been accessed. Contextual effects are able to multiply as more of the original context is evoked.

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the original context without making prior assumptions about the way it is being used. It gives access to the author’s probable intentions, not as though they can be directly read off the text, but by assuming that the author has communicated ostensively and that human communication is guided by the quest for optimal relevance.122 Finally, to make clear the limitation of RT used in this way, we should note that however likely and however satisfying we may find a particular echo or allusion, its discovery is almost always contingent on our also having access to the source of the echo. How many more examples of metalepsis are we missing simply because we do not know the texts they link to? The (diachronic) relevance we find when we read an ancient text for ourselves will be determined by our own cognitive environment, including our knowledge of other texts. But our investigation of the (synchronic) relevance found by the first readers will necessarily be limited by our ignorance of their cognitive environments.123

Relevance and the nature of John’s imagery The nature of the imagery in the Apocalypse is a vast subject deserving of its own special study. All I intend to do here is to offer a brief introduction to the potential contribution of a relevance approach to understanding the significance of the symbolism and imagery.124 Several commentators stress the view that Revelation’s symbolic language is not a sign language with a grammar of its own, or a code system transparent to those who possess the key, but rather a complex web of evocative pictorial images. Boring distinguishes between propositional language, which he describes as objectifying, logical, diachronic, using signs rather than symbols, and contrasting myth with truth, and pictorial language, which is non-objectifying, non-logical, non-inferential, 122 Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament, pp. 50–9, argues for the importance of the author’s intentions by appeal to Hirsch’s concept of the ‘willed type’. His discussion here is helpful and in many ways similar to the approach I have taken through RT. See especially his handling of the ‘implications’ of a statement, and the varying responsibility of author and audience in determining these, pp. 54–6. 123 Cf. Hollander, The Figure of an Echo, p. 65: ‘The readers of texts, in order to overhear echoes, must have some kind of access to an earlier voice, and to its cave of resonant signification, analogous to that of the author of the later text.’ 124 In particular I am not at this point entering the important contemporary debate about the ethical problems raised by the imagery (especially issues of violence and misogyny), although I suspect that a relevance approach may help us understand the motivation and intended function of this problematic language. See Barr, ‘Ethical Reading’, for a helpful response to some of the more critical commentators.

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synchronic, using tensive polyvalent symbols and myth as a vehicle for truth.125 In particular, Pictorial language can communicate the message expressed by a certain picture, vision, or symbol without affirming all the implications of the message if it were reduced to propositional language. Such pictorial language says what it says, not what it implies; it does not function as part of a larger inferential system.126 On the face of it this would appear to challenge the applicability of RT, focussing as it does on the inferential processes central to understanding. But while the truth of the first sentence above (the non-italicized one) can be acknowledged, the second is much more problematical and does not follow – at least not in any literal understanding of it. When John says ‘Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, holding in his hand the key to the bottomless pit and a great chain’ (Rev. 20:1), the most important point he is communicating is not that he saw an angel with a key and a chain, nor is it that an angel came down from heaven, holding a key and chain. The language patently does not ‘say what it says’ and must on any valid system of interpretation be the starting point of an inferential process. If Boring’s point is that it is not to be rigidly linked into an over-arching system of interpretation which would identify the key and the chain, locate the pit, and timetable the angel’s descent, then it is well made.127 But this does not deny the essential inferential nature of the imagery. And it is precisely this process of inference which is open to investigation using Relevance Theory. It should also be remembered that there is no sharp or definable boundary between strong implicatures guaranteed by the author and weak implicatures for which the audience must take responsibility.128 Thus the same process of searching for optimal relevance, based on the same text, can lead to potentially very different 125 Boring, Revelation, pp. 51–9. See also Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 20; Bauckham, Theology, pp. 17–22. ‘Tensive’ symbols are described in n. 130 below. 126 Boring, Revelation, p. 57 (my italics). 127 A. Farrer, A Rebirth of Images: The Making of St. John’s Apocalypse (Westminster: Dacre Press, 1949), p. 18, would argue that the images do constitute an interconnected and self-consistent world. Though he is more often noted for his structural approach to Revelation (see comments by R. H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), pp. 45–6; Aune, Revelation 1–5, p. xciv), Farrer’s appreciation of the function of the imagery is subtle and in some aspects anticipates the insights of Relevance Theory (see, for example, pp. 13–20). Nevertheless, he treats the book essentially from a compositional rather than a receptor-centred perspective and can fairly be criticized for the complexity of the resulting structures. 128 See p. 19 above and references there.

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readings of the same picture or image. For this reason a relevance-based investigation must begin by defining the cognitive environments within which the imagery occurs, starting from the immediate textual location, properly delimited by discourse analysis.129 The further consequence of a relevance approach is that Boring’s dichotomy between propositional and pictorial language is at best overstated. Even the apparently propositional opening words of Revelation are potentially tensive.130 And similarly, not only symbolic or pictorial language, but all language used in communication is the starting point for an inferential process seeking optimal relevance. Sperber in his earlier work on symbolism agrees that symbolism is not a code or grammar. At the same time he strongly argues that symbolic thought is not pre-rational but that symbolic processing takes place when rational processing fails adequately to interpret a proposition.131 This implies that the student of Revelation is spared from making any a priori decisions about which statements are symbolic and which are not. All propositions are considered as inputs to the rational processing of the audience, and the search for symbolic meaning begins where rational analysis fails.132 But RT’s insistence on the most accessible meaning yielding 129 Compare the comments on the reuse of metaphor in biblical literature by J. M. Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), p. 158: ‘to explain what it means to Christians to say that God is a fountain of living water, or a vine-keeper, or a rock, or fortress, or king requires an account not merely of fountains, rocks, vines, and kings but of a whole tradition of experiences and of the literary tradition which records and interprets them’. RT, however, takes the further step of explaining how such context is limited by relevance, as the next paragraph shows. For an RT approach to metaphor and metonymy see N. S. Song, ‘Metaphor and Metonymy’, in Carston and Uchida, Relevance Theory, pp. 87–104. 130 The phrase
 
  , Rev. 1:1a, potentially evokes several concepts in a Christian context: that of a prophetic revelation in the context of worship (cf. 1 Cor. 14:26–32), that of the Parousia (cf. 1 Cor. 1:7; 2 Thess. 1:7; 1 Pet. 1:7, 13), and that of a message from Christ (cf. Gal. 1:12). It seems unnecessary to decide between these connotations. Boring’s concept of ‘tensive symbols’, Revelation, pp. 54–5, is a development from P. Wheelwright, The Burning Fountain (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1968), who distinguished between steno symbols, which have a clearly defined, objective referent, and what he termed ‘expressive’ or ‘depth’ symbols, which carry a range of overtones of meaning, and by doing so set up a tension in the mind of the reader. The latter are Boring’s ‘tensive’ symbols. 131 D. Sperber, Rethinking Symbolism, trans. Alice L. Morton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975); D. Sperber, ‘Is Symbolic Thought Prerational?’, in M. L. Foster and S. H. Brandes (eds.), Symbol as Sense (New York: Academic Press, 1980), pp. 25–44; D. Sperber, ‘Apparently Irrational Beliefs’ in On Anthropological Knowledge, ET (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), pp. 35–63. 132 Note that this distinction between rational and symbolic processing is not the same as that between literal and non-literal meanings, since most of the latter are just as rationally processed as the former.

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adequate contextual effects also places a limit on the extent of inferential processing.133 This limit is a safeguard against attempts to integrate all images into the kind of over-arching, logical construct that Boring rejects. 2.5

A Relevance-Theoretic approach to the Apocalypse The relevance perspective in the study of biblical text

This chapter has attempted to establish ways in which the criterion of ‘optimal relevance’ might contribute to the interpretation of biblical texts, including their intertextual allusions and their use of imagery. As an explanatory paradigm for the cognitive processes of human communication, RT offers potential insights into the way audiences would have interacted with the texts. This has implications for text criticism, discourse structure, genre, and (original) reader response. The pivotal question that has to be faced in advocating the use of RT is not ‘Does it give results?’ but ‘Is it necessary?’ The heart of Wendland’s criticism of Gutt was that ‘the theoretical framework and terminology of RT is superfluous. It does not really contribute anything to his competent exposition of the biblical text.’134 If the only contribution RT made to understanding the text was the introduction of new jargon, then Wendland would be right.135 However, even our preliminary investigations thus far suggest that this is not the case. Further, we should note that Gutt attempted to show that RT is the only theoretical framework necessary for an understanding of translation.136 In relation to the analysis of biblical text (of which, as Gutt rightly holds, translation is a special case) I prefer to see RT, and the insights it offers into the process of human cognition, as a valuable tool for use alongside others. It does not replace (nor is it the sole criterion within) the traditional and emerging disciplines of textual criticism, historical-critical analysis, discourse analysis, historicalsociological analysis, and rhetorical criticism. Rather it provides a valid 133 D. Wilson, ‘Relevance and Understanding’, in G. Brown, K. Malmkjaer, A. Pollitt, and J. Williams (eds.), Language and Understanding (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 43, comments: ‘it is clear that in interpreting . . . we do not assume that the speaker intended us to go on expanding the context indefinitely, deriving ever more implications. We do look for some implications, of course; but what we appear to do is choose the minimal set of implications that would make the utterance worth listening to, and stop there.’ 134 Wendland, ‘Review’, Part 2, p. 93. 135 Here it is worth noting the helpful ‘Glossary of Terms as Used within Relevance Theory’, in Carston and Uchida, Relevance Theory, pp. 295–9. 136 Gutt, Translation, p. 188.

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perspective for any of these disciplines, a perspective with several important strengths.137 First, it involves treating the text as the record of a real communication event and, as a consequence, emphasizes the importance of context for understanding. This respect for the text and for the life situation giving rise to it is a welcome change from some of the decontextualizing methodologies prevalent in post-modern criticism.138 At the same time what I have called a ‘relevance perspective’ avoids the ‘intentional fallacy’ and sidelines questions of literary dependence, by focussing attention primarily on how the text would be understood by the reader. Thus it gives a cognitive theoretical justification to the processes of historical-critical research.139 Secondly, RT gives a more precise definition to the notion of context, or to such a notion of context as is significant for understanding an utterance. Avoiding both the vagueness which usually accompanies the discussion of context, and the indefinability of the idea of ‘mutual knowledge’, the RT concept of ‘mutual cognitive environments’ allows fairly explicit descriptions of such contexts to guide analysis, even if all the details of the wider socio-cultural environment are not known. 137 Wendland, ‘Review’, Part 2, pp. 95–106, proposes a similarly multi-disciplinary approach to translation. In my judgment he underestimates the degree to which questions of relevance influence other aspects of his construct, such as discourse analysis, style, and poetics. 138 The de-historicizing of texts like Revelation, leading to modern political, social, and ideological agendas being imposed on them, is evidenced in, for example, Moore, ‘Beatific Vision’, or Pippin, ‘Eros and the End’, or T. Pippin, ‘Jezebel Re-Vamped’, Semeia 69/70 (1995), pp. 221–33. It is not that the concerns raised in these and similar works are invalid, but that the text and context are afforded little respect in themselves. RT appears to offer a mechanism by which the social context of the text can be taken seriously, in line with Friesen’s call (‘Revelation, Realia, and Religion’, p. 307): ‘to be more systematic in treating literary texts like Revelation as social productions related to their historical, political, and religious contexts’. 139 It should be clear that RT’s contribution is not the assertion of the importance of the original audience’s understanding for the meaning of a text, but rather its explanatory and theoretical underpinning. The following quotation from J. L. Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History: Essays for Interpreters (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), pp. 105–6, n. 169, illustrates the pedigree of a perspective entirely consonant with RT: ‘a hermeneutical rule attributed orally by E. K¨asemann to W. Bauer is of crucial importance: Before one inquires into the author’s intention, he must ask how the first readers are likely to have understood the text . . . The author of that verse took no steps to exclude this obvious interpretation. It follows that he probably intended it.’ In the field of secular historical research, Skinner criticizes what he calls ‘contextual methodology’ not for its interest in the original context, but for the way context is used. Again he anticipates an RT perspective when he says: ‘The “context” mistakenly gets treated as the determinant of what is said. It needs rather to be treated as an ultimate framework for helping decide what conventionally recognizable meanings, in a society of that kind, it might in principle have been possible for someone to have intended to communicate’ (Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding’, p. 64).

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Thirdly, RT’s central thesis of the trade-off between processing effort and contextual effects can be used to prioritize cognitive environments and thus becomes a criterion for analysing text (using any of the disciplines) from the readers’/hearers’ perspective and adjudicating between competing co-texts and contexts. The use of RT is not necessary for the understanding of biblical text, in the same sense that an understanding of the laws of gravity is not necessary to live successfully in a gravitational field. Gravity operates regardless of one’s cognitive attitude towards it.140 But an awareness of the way in which gravity works is important in the descriptive, explanatory, and predictive aspects of the work of the scientist and the engineer. Similarly, an awareness of RT offers descriptive, explanatory, and predictive insight into what guides the search for meaning. Towards a relevance-sensitive methodology In order to employ RT in this study with a degree of rigour, a number of steps appear to be necessary, in a logical (though not legalistic) order. 1

Establishment of the text

Clearly, to understand any communication it is important to establish exactly what was said. However, for reasons of space and because I wish to concentrate on the semantics and pragmatics of the text, I shall not engage in major, systematic textual criticism. Instead, textual issues will be dealt with as they arise and to the extent that they have potential to influence decision-making. 2

Elucidation of discourse structure

Although the text as a whole is of primary importance as a context for any particular sub-text, I have already stated above that not all parts of the text are equally accessible. Apart from the inherent priority of earlier text, it is also important to note that an extended text like the book of Revelation has an internal structure which relates certain text sequences (or sub-texts) to others in a variety of syntagmatic and hierarchical relationships. These sequences may pass information to each other regarding 140 Cf. Wilson and Sperber, ‘Representation and Relevance’, p. 140: ‘The principle of relevance . . . is not something that people have to know, let alone learn, in order to communicate effectively; it is not something that they obey or might disobey: it is an exceptionless generalisation about human communicative behaviour.’

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participants, time, spatial location, and events. Thus a comprehensive linguistic discourse analysis is a necessary preliminary to using relevance criteria in interpretation because it helps to determine within the whole co-text which text sequences are the most accessible. It is important to have textual units clearly delimited and issues of topic, focus, pronominal reference, and the like as clearly explicated as possible. 3

Identification of the issue

Cognitive environments are not, like some vaguer ideas of context, a fixed set of ideas which can be described once for a given text. Instead, each statement, and sometimes each word, opens doors into its own set of interlinked matrices of manifest assumptions. It is important therefore to identify clearly what it is one is investigating in a particular passage, before attempting to define the contexts within which it is interpreted. 4

Description of cognitive environments

This involves determining which environments are activated by the issue in question and describing them as fully as necessary. Such environments include the immediate co-text, the wider textual setting, the socio-cultural and historical setting, and the many layers of intertextual usage involved in the life, scripture, and liturgy of the audience. The cognitive environment, however, is not a fixed construct, determined in advance, but is actively and progressively created as the text is processed. Therefore the most useful method of studying the way in which an audience would have understood a passage is to allow the passage itself to unfold in a linear fashion, and to try to determine at each stage what cognitive environments are likely to have been accessed in the search for optimal relevance. 5

Evaluation of the accessibility of cognitive environments

The ‘processing effort’ side of the relevance equation, which determines the way an audience will interpret a text, depends on determining, at least to a comparative degree, how easily accessible the various cognitive environments are, and which ones yield the best cognitive effect for the least processing effort. Although this step comes logically after step 4 and before step 6, in practice there may be a degree of feedback and interaction between the three steps. Not all possible environments need to be described on every occasion in order to decide which is most easily

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accessible, and possible interpretations may be already on the horizon before the contexts are fully delineated. 6

Interpretation of text within prioritized contexts

Here is where the ‘cost-benefit’ analysis of RT comes into play, as an attempt is made to determine the likely interpretation of the text which provides the audience with good contextual effects for minimal processing effort. This does not mean, especially for a book like Revelation, that interpretation involving the absolute minimum of processing effort is the correct one, or even the one decided on by the audience. There may be significant co-textual and contextual markers to indicate that such a meaning is not an ‘adequate contextual effect’ and that the search must continue. Nevertheless, RT suggests that optimal relevance is the important criterion and that the search will be guided along these lines, with the corollary that it will not proceed beyond the point where optimal relevance is obtained. As I have already pointed out, this limits the extent to which the interpreter can validly search for cryptic meaning. But it does still allow the possibility of deliberate ‘double-coding’, if the text is so constructed as to yield one meaning to someone with one set of presuppositions and another to one with a different set.

RT is not a stand-alone approach to the biblical text, and the foregoing schema is intended to operate both as a fine-tuner and as a discriminating tool in the discipline of biblical exegesis through textual, discourse, historical-critical, rhetorical, and literary analysis. Chapter 3 will describe the context of the text in two ways. First, the text will be located in an assumed historical, cultural, and textual environment. Secondly, the results of a relevance-guided analysis of the discourse structure of the entire book will be summarized, with the particular purpose of identifying where and how the people of God are displayed within the hierarchically linked units of text. This will identify the focal passages for the exegetical work of Chapters 4–6, and provide a structured view of the co-text within which these passages are set, in order to facilitate the application of the criterion of relevance.

3 A C O G N I T I V E E N V I RO N M E N T F O R T H E A P O C A LY P S E

3.1

Introduction

A Relevance-Theoretic approach to understanding the Apocalypse locates meaning not within the text alone, but in the interaction of the text with the context of the reader/hearer in order to optimize relevance. If we are to follow the interpretive steps of the first readers, then, we shall need to know as much as possible about the cognitive environment within which they received the text. But we shall also need to understand how the structure of text provided for any given passage a text-internal context, and a series of natural connections to other passages. These two dimensions of context, the external and the internal, are the focus of this chapter and will be treated in quite different ways. First we shall state the assumptions we make about the text-external context, and then we shall report the results of a relevance-guided study of the discourse structure of the book. 3.2

The text in its context

Relevance Theory insists that context is not a fixed, predetermined construct, but is created progressively as the communication proceeds. Nevertheless, it is necessary to make some initial assumptions about the location of the text in social and historical terms, assumptions which can then be drawn on as possible elements of the mutual cognitive environment for a given passage. I shall state, then, as concisely as possible the background assumed for the text of Revelation, and elaborate briefly on a number of significant points.1 The book of Revelation is the record of a communication from a prominent individual, John, intended to be read aloud to gatherings 1 The inspiration for this form of statement comes from Boring’s ‘Introduction’, Revelation, pp. 1–62.

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The People of God in the Apocalypse of mixed Jewish–Gentile Christian communities in Asia Minor in the last decade of the first century AD. The beliefs and loyalties of these communities brought them into conflict, both potential and real, with other religious and governmental groups. The book was positively received and accorded a status which led to its preservation and eventual inclusion in the canon of the NT. The book of Revelation . . .

We assume, as a starting hypothesis, that the text printed in NA27/UBS4 reflects the original text. This assumption may be challenged in particular cases where considerations suggest not only that an alternative reading is in accord with the principle of relevance in the original situation, but that changes from the suggested reading to other readings would have created optimal relevance in their settings.2 . . . is the record of a communication . . . It is just possible that the book we have is not the record of an actual communication but an artifice, crafted to give the appearance of a real communication. It could also be an edited version of a communication or communications. This assumption thus explicitly posits that behind this text are an author and an audience who share a mutual cognitive environment, and the text was intended as optimally relevant communication within that environment. This assumption holds good even if the author composed his work from previous works. It also implies that the complete text of Revelation itself is perhaps the most important context within which any part of the text is to be understood. . . . from a prominent individual, John, . . . The implied author calls himself John, and the nature of his communication suggests that he writes from a position of leadership with respect to the people to whom he writes. Whether the author is John the apostle, the elder, the Baptist, or some other John, might in theory affect the mutual cognitive environment he shares with the audience and hence the audience’s interpretation of the text. But most commentators consider that 2 The most detailed treatment of textual questions is in H. C. Hoskier, Concerning the Text of the Apocalypse (2 vols.; London: Bernard Quaritch, 1929). For more recent discussions see Aune, Revelation 1–5, pp. cxxxiv–clx; Beale, Revelation, pp. 70–5.

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John’s social identity is more important. He is usually considered to be a prophet of some standing among the communities to which he writes.3 Whether his authority was universally acknowledged is less certain, and does not need to be specified. I shall consistently refer to the author as John, but shall make no a priori assumptions about his identity, allowing the text to force the issue if necessary. . . . intended to be read aloud to gatherings . . . This is not so much an assumption as a deduction from the text itself (Rev. 1:3), together with assumptions about the dynamics of writing and reading in the ancient world.4 Yet it has important implications for the way in which context is constructed. All text is linear, with succeeding sentences entering an environment formed by all the earlier ones.5 This priority of preceding context is even more prominent for text which is heard rather than read. It implies that for the hearers, the most accessible context of a sub-text is the immediately preceding text/sub-text. Other earlier text segments may be accessed, where the discourse structure or the participants or the narrative sequence require it to optimize relevance. Subsequent text may also exercise an influence in two related but distinct ways – retrospectively and recursively. Given the human capacity for memory, a subsequent passage may provide the missing component of the cognitive environment of an earlier passage, confirming or overturning any hypotheses which have been held and allowing the earlier 3 For discussions of authorship, generally adopting the view that John is an otherwise unknown prophet, see Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. xxxviii–l; Aune, Revelation 1–5, pp. xlvii–lvi; Beale, Revelation, pp. 34–6; J. Sweet, Revelation (SCM Pelican Commentaries; London: SCM, 1979), pp. 35–44; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 25–53; D. E. Aune, ‘The Social Matrix of the Apocalypse of John’, BR 26 (1981), pp. 16–32. The suggestion of J. M. Ford, The Revelation of John (AB, 38; New York: Doubleday, 1975), pp. 28–40, 50–6, that a prophecy by John the Baptist was supplemented by one of his disciples and only later edited as a Christian document has not received support. For a recent defence of apostolic authorship see Smalley, Thunder and Love, pp. 37–40. 4 For the importance of the oral/aural dimension of the book see Bauckham, Climax, p. 3; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, p. 144; and especially Barr, ‘Oral Enactment’, p. 243; Garrow, Revelation, pp. 3–4. For a comparison of John’s book with letter writing in the ancient world see Karrer, Die Johannesoffenbarung als Brief, pp. 49–83. 5 See Blakemore, Semantic Constraints, p. 112. Two authors who take this constraint on context seriously for Revelation are Garrow, Revelation, pp. 3–4; and J. W. Mealy, After the Thousand Years: Resurrection and Judgment in Revelation 20 (JSNTSup, 70; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), pp. 59–60. Garrow makes the further interesting suggestion that the book was designed for serialized reading, with several points of suspense as likely breaks. This, however, works under the assumption that the whole could not have been read in one sitting, an assumption which may hold true for present-day Western congregations, but is not necessarily true in other cultural contexts.

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passage to achieve optimal relevance as the reading proceeds. But a written document is also usually reread, probably many times, and so later passages can provide part of a wider circle of context within which an earlier passage is read or heard. We do not know the precise context of the gatherings during which the text would have been read. A number of writers detect the influence of early Christian liturgy at several points, and it is possible that the reading took place within the eucharistic worship of the churches. If this was the case, it would certainly be an important component of the cognitive environment.6 . . . of mixed Jewish–Gentile Christian communities . . . This assumption defines one major horizon of the mutual cognitive environment, with a large number of contributing components. If they are Christian communities, then they are defined by a common faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah of Israel, as Saviour and Lord, and in the events of his death and resurrection as the climax of God’s purpose of salvation for humanity. We do not need to assume that the audience possessed any of the gospels as such. It is sufficient that they were familiar with some traditions that lie behind them, and in particular the idea of the return of Christ to consummate the age, and the specific traditions often referred to as the Synoptic Apocalypse.7 The relationship of the text and the community that produced it to the other Johannine writings has long been an issue.8 But Paul and his followers were also active in founding mixed 6 The cultic context for the reading of the Apocalypse was suggested by L. Thompson, ‘Cult and Eschatology in the Apocalypse of John’, JR 49 (1969), pp. 343–4. For further references see Chapter 1, p. 5, n. 17 above. In addition, note Barr, ‘Oral Enactment’, pp. 253–5; Garrow, Revelation, pp. 3–4. 7 On the relationship of the Apocalypse to the gospels and other NT books see the works listed in Chapter 1, p. 5, n. 17. L. Hartman, Prophecy Interpreted: The Formation of Some Jewish Apocalyptic Texts and of the Eschatological Discourse, Mark 13 Par., trans. Neil Tomkinson (ConBNT, 1; Lund: Gleerup, 1966), pp. 145–77, gave a description of the tradition history of the Synoptic Apocalypse (Matt. 24:3–44; Mark 13:3–37; Luke 17:22– 37; 21:7–36). Valuable discussions of its relationship to John’s Apocalypse can be found in Vos, Synoptic Traditions; Beale, ‘Use of Daniel’; E. Corsini, The Apocalypse: The Perennial Revelation of Jesus Christ, trans. Francis J. Moloney (GNS, 5; Dublin: Veritas, 1983), pp. 50–9. Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. lxxxiii–lxxxvi, suggested that John may have used a number of NT books, including Matthew, Luke, and a number of Pauline epistles. Sweet, Revelation, pp. 40–1, also discusses this question, including the question of relationship to Paul’s writing. 8 In addition to references in n. 17, p. 5 above, see Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. xxix–xxxvii; Aune, Revelation 1–5, pp. liv–lvi; Smalley, Thunder and Love, pp. 57–69; S. S. Smalley, ‘John’s Revelation and John’s Community’, BJRL 69 (1987), pp. 549–71;

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Jewish–Gentile churches in the Asia Minor region, including two of the cities whose churches are addressed by John.9 Paul communicated with his churches by letter, and those in Ephesus and Laodicea may both have received letters from him.10 We simply do not know whether the churches to which John writes his prophetic letter were genetically or generically related to these Pauline churches or to any supposed Johannine communities, and, as with the authorship question, it is not necessary to make a priori assumptions. Where the text requires it, the points of contact will be noted as part of the potential environment. I shall not assume, for example, that the audience possessed copies of Pauline letters, or of the gospel or letters associated with the name of John.11 What is reasonably certain is that first-century Christian communities would have been familiar with the Old Testament, and in mixed Jewish–Gentile groups both the Hebrew text and its Greek translations were probably accessible.12 In addition we may assume that the mutual cognitive environment included post-OT Jewish writings and commentaries, including some of E. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘The Quest for the Johannine School: The Apocalypse and the Fourth Gospel’, NTS 23 (1977), pp. 402–27. On the influence of John’s Apocalypse on later apocalypses, some attributed to John, see J. M. Court, The Book of Revelation and the Johannine Apocalyptic Tradition (JSNTSup, 190; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000). 9 Ephesus (see Acts 19; 20:17–38) and Laodicea (see Col. 4:15–16), presumably established during the time of ministry described in Acts 19:10. See Thompson, Apocalypse and Empire, pp. 117–27, 133–45, for a thorough discussion of the origins of Christianity in Asia Minor, the relationship between Jewish and Christian communities, and the likely mixed ethnicity of the churches. Internal evidence from the text will be seen to support this assumption. 10 Whether Ephesians was written to Ephesus is, of course, disputed. Whatever the case, it is intriguing to note that there are a number of images of the church in common (on a semantic rather than lexical level) between Ephesians and Revelation – as a temple, as an edifice built on the foundation of the apostles, as the bride of Christ, and as an army. See also the points of contact listed by Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. lxxxiii–lxxxvi. But there are major differences between the respective theological outlooks of Paul and John, especially with regard to the relationship of Christians to the non-Christian world. See W. A. Meeks, The Origins of Christian Morality: The First Two Centuries (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), p. 182; and P. Trebilco, ‘The Early Christians and the World Out There: Reflections on Revelation and the Pastoral Epistles’, Paper presented at the ANZABS Annual Conference, Auckland, 1998. 11 So Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Johannine School’, pp. 425–6, ‘The author of the Apoc is rooted in an early Christian prophetic-apocalyptic school but he also has access to Johannine as well as Pauline traditions. We have therefore to assume that at the end of the first century in Asia Minor various Christian circles or schools lived side by side within the Christian community, without being necessarily rival Christian groups or separate institutions.’ 12 On John’s use of the Old Testament see above, pp. 37–43. Few scholars follow the suggestion of Swete, Apocalypse, pp. clv–clvi, that John primarily relied on the LXX. Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. lxv–lxxxiii, argues that John’s main source is the Hebrew, a position supported by L. P. Trudinger, ‘Some Observations Concerning the Text of the Old Testament in the Book of Revelation’, JTS 17 (1966), pp. 83–8; and S. Thompson, The

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those which we label ‘pseudepigraphal’ and ‘apocalyptic’ and, perhaps, traditions which eventuated in later rabbinic writings and targums.13 The relationship to sectarian Judaism as expressed at Qumran is perhaps less certain, but will be noted where appropriate.14 With any of the material discussed in this section, the question posed by an RT approach is not simply ‘Did this tradition exist at the time when John wrote?’, but ‘Does it form part of the mutual cognitive environment which John assumes?’ Apocalypse and Semitic Syntax (SNTSMS, 52; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), pp. 1–2, 102–8. But Beale has made a strong case for the importance of both textual traditions. See G. K. Beale, ‘A Reconsideration of the Text of Daniel in the Apocalypse’, Bib 67 (1986), pp. 539–43; Beale, Revelation, pp. 77–9; Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament, p. 62. So also Moyise, The Old Testament, p. 17; S. Moyise, ‘The Language of the Old Testament in the Apocalypse’, JSNT 76 (1999), pp. 97–113; Paulien, ‘The Book of Revelation and the Old Testament’. On the related question of whether John himself was more at home in Greek or in a Semitic language see A. Lancellotti, Sintassi ebraica nel Greco dell’Apocalisse, vol. I, Uso delle forme verbali (Collectio Assisiensis; Assisi: Studio Teologico ‘Porziuncola’, 1964), p. 122; C. G. Ozanne, ‘The Language of the Apocalypse’, TynB 16 (1965), pp. 3–9, who argues that John’s style is deliberately modelled on the Hebrew Bible; Thompson, Semitic Syntax, pp. 106–8; A. D. Callahan, ‘The Language of the Apocalypse’, HTR 88 (1995), pp. 462–3. How familiar John’s audience was with the Hebrew scriptures is less certain. Trebilco, Jewish Communities, pp. 41, 44, 208 (n. 23), 221 (n. 119), records some Hebrew inscriptions in the area, though they are rare. 13 Which of these Jewish sources were available to John and his readers will be considered as the case arises. In addition to the literature listed in bibliographic notes to Chapter 1 (pp. 4–6) see C. van der Waal, ‘The Last Book of the Bible and the Jewish Apocalypses’, Neot 12 (1981), pp. 111–32; J. H. Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the New Testament: Prolegomena for the Study of Christian Origins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), especially p. 87; Sweet, Revelation, pp. 28–31; R. Bauckham, ‘Resurrection as Giving Back the Dead: A Traditional Image of Resurrection in the Pseudepigrapha and the Apocalypse of John’, in J. H. Charlesworth and C. A. Evans (eds.), The Pseudepigrapha and Early Biblical Interpretation (JSPSup, 14, Studies in Early Judaism and Christianity, 2; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), pp. 269–91; D. Frankfurter, ‘The Legacy of Jewish Apocalypses in Early Christianity: Regional Trajectories’, in VanderKam and Adler, The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage, pp. 129–200. On the relationship of the NT to the targums and other rabbinic literature, and the caution needed in assuming the latter as background, see S. A. Kaufman, ‘Dating the Language of the Palestinian Targums and their Use in the Study of First Century CE Texts’, in D. R. G. Beattie and M. J. McNamara (eds.), The Aramaic Bible: Targums in their Historical Context (JSOTSup, 166; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994), pp. 118–41; J. Neusner, Rabbinic Literature and the New Testament: What we Cannot Show, we do not Know (Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1994); M. Wilcox, ‘The Aramaic Background of the New Testament’, in Beattie and McNamara, The Aramaic Bible, pp. 362–78; B. Chilton, ‘Reference to the Targumim in the Exegesis of the New Testament’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1995 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), pp. 77–81. 14 On Qumran, in addition to works noted in Chapter 1, p. 5, n. 16, see O. Betz, ‘The Eschatological Interpretation of the Sinai-tradition in Qumran and in the New Testament’, RevQ 6 (1967), pp. 89–107; J. M. Baumgarten, ‘The Duodecimal Courts of Qumran, Revelation, and the Sanhedrin’, JBL 95 (1976), pp. 59–78. For the suggestion that Revelation opposes a form of political messianism, whether from within Palestine or from the Diaspora, see R. van de Water, ‘Reconsidering the Beast from the Sea (Rev. 13.1)’, NTS 46 (2000), pp. 245–61.

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This question is at once more stringent and more tractable. As a general principle we shall not build interpretations solely on materials which we cannot be sure were available to John and his audience. But if a significant increase in relevance would result from assuming that John expected his audience to be familiar with, for example, a tradition which manifests in a later targumic text, or a Qumranic interpretation, we shall take this into account. . . . in Asia Minor in the last decade of the first century AD . . . This assumption of the external context forms the other major horizon of the communicative world. I assume that the social, political, cultural, and economic conditions of the period (probably the later years of the reign of Domitian) contribute to the ‘cognitive geography’ shared by author and audience.15 This includes the external political supremacy of the Roman Empire, the Greco-Roman cultural environment, and the socio-religious worlds of ancient Greek and Roman religion, of local cults and of the emperor cult.16 Intersecting with these influences is the economic and 15 Most writers believe that the date must be between the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70 and the turn of the century, and that other considerations give insufficient cause to dispute Irenaeus’ evidence for AD 95–6. See Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. xci–xcvii; Aune, Revelation 1–5, pp. lvii–lxx; Beale, Revelation, pp. 3–27; Sweet, Revelation, pp. 21–7; Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 22–6; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 54– 83; D. A. deSilva, ‘The Social Setting of the Revelation to John: Conflicts Within, Fears Without’, WTJ 54 (1992), pp. 273–81. Opting for an earlier date are Garrow, Revelation, pp. 66–79, AD 80; Ford, Revelation, pp. 4–11, 12–22, whose view that the book originates with the Baptist requires at least sections of it to predate the rest of the NT (p. 37); J. A. T. Robinson, Redating the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1976), pp. 221–53, AD 68– 70; A. A. Bell, ‘The Date of John’s Apocalypse. The Evidence of Some Roman Historians Reconsidered’, NTS 25 (1978), pp. 93–102, AD 68–9; R. B. Moberly, ‘When was Revelation Conceived?’, Bib 73 (1992), pp. 376–93, who places the original visions in AD 69, although suggesting that the letters to the churches may be from Trajan’s reign; R. A. Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery in the Book of Revelation (Studies in Biblical Literature; New York: Peter Lang, 1999), pp. 23–39, whose extensive discussion leads him to the late 60s; C. Rowland, The Open Heaven: A Study of Apocalyptic in Judaism and Early Christianity (London: SPCK, 1982), p. 266, before AD 70; and J. C. Wilson, ‘The Problem of the Domitianic Date of Revelation’, NTS 39 (1993), pp. 587–605, who argues for a date in the mid to late 60s. For a tentative suggestion of a Trajanic date, on the grounds that Pliny appears to have been unable to quote any recent precedents in dealing with Christians, see F. G. Downing, ‘Pliny’s Prosecutions of Christians: Revelation and 1 Peter’, JSNT 34 (1988), pp. 105–23. 16 In addition to works noted in Chapter 1, p. 4, n. 14, see Sweet, Revelation, pp. 31–4; Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 18–22, 42–6; Boring, Revelation, pp. 8–23; J. Stambaugh and D. Balch, The Social World of the First Christians (London: SPCK, 1986); P. Coutsompos, ‘The Social Implication of Idolatry in Revelation 2:14: Christ or Caesar?’, BTB 27 (1997), pp. 23–7; A. Brent, ‘John as Theologos: The Imperial Mysteries and the Apocalypse’, JSNT 75 (1999), pp. 87–102; W. A. Meeks, The Moral World of the First Christians (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986), pp. 19–63.

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commercial world, the influence of Rome on global trade patterns, and local influence of trade guilds.17 All of these, in a general sense, form part of the total mutual cognitive environment. On the other hand, I shall not assume specific local details concerning the cities mentioned in Revelation 1–3, unless these appear necessary.18 . . . conflict, both potential and real . . . The nature of Christian commitment on the one hand, and of the socioreligious environment on the other, made some degree of confrontation inevitable. There is general agreement that in the period when the book was most likely written there was no general state-sponsored persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire.19 So the strong presumption of conflict with the authorities which is found in the visions can be explained by one of two scenarios. It is seen by some as arising from the cognitive dissonance between the expectations of early Christians, including the Parousia and their own security, and the socio-economic realities within which they found themselves, including social deprivation and loss of status.20 The Apocalypse is then seen as an attempt to create conflict, or at least to intensify the perception of conflict, with their environment by strengthening the lines of demarcation. On the other hand, a strong case can be made for the existence of genuine, if localized, opposition and persecution within the experience of author and audience.21 At the very least, the memory (or at least knowledge) of earlier persecutions, such as those 17 See Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 88–97; Kraybill, Imperial Cult, pp. 24–56 and throughout; P. A. Harland, ‘Honouring the Emperor or Assailing the Beast: Participation in Civic Life among Associations (Jewish, Christian and Other) in Asia Minor and in the Apocalypse of John’, JSNT 77 (2000), pp. 99–121. 18 Despite Friesen’s substantive criticisms of Ramsay and Hemer (‘Revelation, Realia, and Religion’), I am not here dismissing their concerns and retreating into a text-internal world. It is simply that I do not in general find local details to be necessary as a priori assumptions when investigating the relationship between the people of God as portrayed in the visions of Rev. 4:1–22:9 and the implied audience. 19 So Kraybill, Imperial Cult, pp. 34–38; Thompson, The Book of Revelation, pp. 95–115; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 69–73; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 124–9; P. J. J. Botha, ‘The Historical Domitian – Illustrating Some Problems of Historiography’, Neot 23 (1989), pp. 45–59. 20 J. G. Gager, Kingdom and Community: The Social World of Early Christianity (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1975), pp. 22–49; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 54–110, 154–61. 21 The case is well made by Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 26–42; see also Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 27; Boring, Revelation, pp. 8–16. Note also the case for Jewish opposition in J. Lambrecht, ‘Jewish Slander: A Note on Revelation 2, 9–10’, ETL 75 (1999), pp. 421–9; A. J. Beagley, The ‘Sitz im Leben’ of the Apocalypse with Particular Reference to the Role of the Church’s Enemies (BZNW, 50; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1987).

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under Nero, is in all likelihood a feature of the cognitive environment.22 I shall assume something more like this latter position, that the author and audience were aware, either by personal experience or from recent collective memory, of the implications of the conflict of loyalties in which they found themselves.23 Evidence from the book itself suggests that these external conflicts gave rise to tensions within the churches themselves, between groups who responded differently to the external pressures.24

. . . positively received . . . inclusion in the canon . . . As Barr points out, this is a fundamental given about the text of Revelation. It is the guarantee of its optimal relevance, not only in its original communication situation, but also in its subsequent communication to later generations of Christians.25 22 This question is connected to that of date, with some of the authors listed above concluding that the Neronian persecutions are in the much more recent past, at least of some of the material of the book. I am assuming a mid-90s date, but thirty years is not a long time in communal memory. 23 On the relationship of early Christians to their social environment, see further J. Knight, Revelation (Readings: A New Biblical Commentary; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 24–8; Thompson, Apocalypse and Empire, pp. 186–97; Kraybill, Imperial Cult, pp. 38–56; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 111–40; D. A. deSilva, ‘The “Image of the Beast” and the Christians in Asia Minor: Escalation of Sectarian Tension in Revelation 13’, TrinJ 12NS (1991), p. 191; J. E. Hurtgen, Anti-Language in the Apocalypse of John (Lewiston: Mellen Biblical Press, 1993); Meeks, Moral World, pp. 97–107, 143–7; M. Volf, ‘Soft Difference: Theological Reflections on the Relation between Church and Culture in 1 Peter’, Ex Auditu 10 (1994), pp. 15–30. 24 On the relationship between external and internal conflicts see E. Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Apocalyptic and Gnosis in the Book of Revelation and Paul’, JBL 92 (1973), pp. 565– 81; P. B. Duff, ‘ “I Will Give to Each of You as Your Works Deserve”: The Fiery-Eyed Son of God in Rev 2.18–23’, NTS 43 (1997), pp. 116–33; D. Hellholm, ‘The Mighty Minority of Gnostic Christians’, in D. Hellholm, H. Moxnes, and T. K. Seim (eds.), Mighty Minorities? Minorities in Early Christianity – Positions and Strategies: Essays in Honour of Jacob Jervell (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1995), pp. 41–66; Gager, Kingdom and Community, p. 88; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Insiders and Outsiders in the Book of Revelation and its Social Context’, in J. Neusner and E. S. Frerichs (eds.), ‘To See Ourselves as Others See Us’: Christians, Jews and ‘Others’ in Late Antiquity (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985), pp. 187–218; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Vilification and Self-Definition in the Book of Revelation’, HTR 79 (1986), pp. 308–20; deSilva, ‘Social Setting’, pp. 286–96; Trebilco, ‘The Early Christians and the World Out There’; R. C. Webber, ‘Group Solidarity in the Revelation of John’, in D. J. Lull (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers 1988 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), pp. 132–40; H. R¨ais¨anen, ‘The Clash between Christian Styles of Life in the Book of Revelation’, in Hellholm, Moxnes, and Seim, Mighty Minorities?, pp. 152–66. 25 See again Barr, ‘Symbolic Transformation’, p. 39, and Chapter 1, p. 3 above. On the other hand, it is not necessary that Revelation was positively received by all members of the churches, or indeed by all churches. Evidence listed in Chapter 1, n. 1 shows otherwise. But even to those who rejected it, it was still highly relevant in the technical sense.

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These assumptions define a set of intersecting contexts within which the Apocalypse is located. It is neither possible nor theoretically defensible to state precisely which of these contexts are more relevant than others, although there is a degree of presumption in favour of the context created by the text itself as being the most prominent one to someone hearing or reading the text. Apart from this, from an RT perspective, context is continually evolving. We may decide at one point that an OT text is more accessible or yields better results than a Roman myth, at another point that a local geographical or social feature is more relevant than an obscure verse in Leviticus. The criterion in each case is the trade-off between processing effort and cognitive results. 3.3

The context in the text A relevance approach to discourse structure

Relevance Theory requires us to understand how a passage relates not only to the text-external, but also to the text-internal environment, or cotext. But how much of the co-text is accessed in constructing meaning? How far back can the audience roam in searching for clues to the identity of a referent? Are there natural boundaries in the text beyond which the search will not normally stray? Can a much earlier text segment form the context for interpreting a later one if the two are clearly linked by markers of surface-level cohesion or semantic coherence? Questions such as these, which are central to the reconstruction of cognitive environments, force us to look at the syntactic and semantic discourse structure of the text. In particular we require a discourse-segmentation approach which analyses the text into hierarchically linked segments and explores the relationship between these segments.26 But more specifically still, our particular focus in this study is the people of God in the book of Revelation. We aim to explore the way in which the auditors of the book found themselves addressed and the ways in which they might have related to the characters in the vision narratives. How were they attracted to listen, what personal relevance might they have perceived 26 For an example of this approach on another NT book, see G. H. Guthrie, ‘Cohesion Shifts and Stitches in Philippians’, in S. E. Porter and D. A. Carson (eds.), Discourse Analysis and Other Topics in Biblical Greek (JSNTSup, 113; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), pp. 36–59. It is the primary approach, as we shall shortly see, of Hellholm, ‘Problem’, and is also the approach reflected in (or assumed by) the ‘Discourse Segmentation Analysis’ level of footnotes in UBS4.

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in the visions, and how were they motivated by the vision accounts? In order to answer these questions it is necessary to identify the participants of each communication level of the text, and of each scene within the vision narrative.27 A discourse approach which focusses on the role and relationship of participants in the text is thus a necessary starting point.28 Although discourse-segmentation and participant-reference approaches are theoretically distinct, they are intimately interrelated. The structure of the book of Revelation has both intrigued and frustrated generations of commentators and scholars, justifying Beale’s description of the field as ‘a maze of interpretative confusion.’29 Fortunately, Relevance Theory not only forces us to address it once more, but also provides a more rigorous criterion in what is often a subjective enterprise. Following Blass, it is helpful to define units of text in terms of identity or similarity of cognitive environment.30 Structural units which contribute to meaning at every level, from the smallest up to the whole text, can be defined as sections of text over which there is an optimization of relevance. Hierarchical and coordinate relationships between such units will also be such as to optimize relevance for the complex of units being studied. While RT provides a clear criterion for making decisions about structure, it does not allow us to make any absolute claims about the structure revealed.31 The recognition that the cognitive environments which we can reproduce from this distance in time and space may fail accurately to represent aspects of the original communication situation, and especially that we do not know what may be missing from our reconstruction of 27 I use ‘participant’ here in the sense of a human or other intelligent being, rather than in the broader linguistic sense in which any nominal or pronominal entity can be considered a participant. 28 For an example of this type of discourse analysis, see J. T. Reed, ‘To Timothy or Not? A Discourse Analysis of 1 Timothy’, in S. E. Porter and D. A. Carson (eds.), Biblical Greek Linguistics: Open Questions in Current Research (JSNTSup, 80; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), pp. 90–118. 29 Beale, Revelation, p. 108. Beale’s commentary provides a comprehensive and helpful review of structural work on the Apocalypse (pp. 108–35, 141–4), as well as advancing his own proposal (pp. 135–41, 152–70), which will be examined later. For another useful analysis of structural approaches based around thirteen different ‘organizing principles’ see E. M¨uller, Microstructural Analysis of Revelation 4–11 (AUSDDS, 21; Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1994), pp. 13–27. See also E. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘Composition and Structure of the Book of Revelation’, CBQ 39 (1977), pp. 345–50, and the notes there. 30 Blass, Relevance Relations, p. 78. 31 Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Composition’, p. 365, defends her analysis of the structure of Revelation against the accusation that it is ‘just one more subjectivist enterprise’, and J. Lambrecht, ‘A Structuration of Revelation 4,1–22, 5’, in J. Lambrecht (ed.), L’Apocalypse johannique et l’apocalyptique dans le Nouveau Testament (BETL, 53; Gembloux: J. Duculot, 1980), p. 103, responding, claims that his (quite different) analysis is not so.

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the context, requires that the structure be offered tentatively, as a framework for further study. Nevertheless, some such model is a necessary preliminary to studying any given passage with regard to its relevance relations, providing as it does a prioritizing of co-textual environments within which the passage is heard. The discourse structure of the Apocalypse The details of both the analysis and the results of a relevance-guided discourse analysis of the Apocalypse have been presented elsewhere and are outside the scope of this present study.32 But a summary of some of the more important results is in order. There is a broadly chiastic structure to the letter which forms the greater part of the book, but relevance considerations forbid splitting off the title in 1:1–3, as it finds its echoes in the final prophetic sections of the letter.33 1:1–3 Title 1:4–22:21 Letter A 1:4–6 Formal letter opening B 1:7–8 Prophetic messages and response C 1:9–22:11 Letter body C1 1:9–11 Prologue to vision reports – command to write C2 1:12–22:9 Vision reports 1:12–3:22 First vision report 4:1–22:9 Second vision report 4:1–11:19 Second vision report Part 1 12:1–22:9 Second vision report Part 2 C1
22:10–11 Epilogue to vision reports – command not to seal B
22:12–20 Prophetic messages and response A
22:21 Formal letter closing The outer layer of the structure, comprising the title and epistolary envelope, is relatively uncontroversial, although some have given insufficient weight to the epistolary form. Relevance considerations have emphasized this form and have gone some way towards precision with regard to the shape of the ending in particular. 32 33

See Pattemore, Discourse Structure. RT leads me to be suspicious of many of the chiastic structures which have been suggested, especially any which involve reordering the text. Apart from the broad chiasm displayed here, ch. 18 appears to be the most likely candidate for this form.

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The division of the visionary section into two main parts, with the break between 3:22 and 4:1, is likewise almost universally perceived. But it is within the section 4:1–22:9 that most structural debate occurs. One of the main questions has to do with the relationship of the three numbered septets, the seals, trumpets, and bowls. Are they intended to be sequential to each other, and if so do they recapitulate each other, or are they all part of a single structure with the trumpets part of the seventh seal and the bowls part of the seventh trumpet? I have shown that 8:1 and 11:19 are the crucial hinges in this debate and have concluded that while the trumpets are part of the seventh seal, there is not such a close relationship between the bowls and the trumpets, at least in the text as it has reached us.34 The integrity of 12:1–22:9 as a textual unit is supported by the observation that it is only in this, the second half of the vision description 4:1–22:9, that the communication axis shifts on a number of occasions, as the author appears to communicate directly to his audience, rather than via his narration of the vision. Such shifts occur at 13:9–10, 18; 14:12; 16:15; 17:9a; 19:8b; 20:5b–6; and 22:7. The breaking of the unitary communication mode prepares the way for and leads into the finale, where the variation of voices may appear confusing. In fact, that variation is seen to be a deliberate structural device, used to bring the voice of God with immediate force to the audience, who themselves are far removed in time and space from the visionary experience. The display of the discourse structure of a large text is always problematical, and, given the intricacy of the textual web which John has woven, this is more than ever true of Revelation. The Appendix (pp. 220– 5 below) provides a simplified outline of the structure of the entire book and highlights a significant feature. There are a number of places at which there are ‘empty text shells’, junctures at which sequences embedded by two or more levels all begin at the identical place. The obvious ones are 1:12; 4:1; 8:2; 12:1 (the most pronounced of all, with five different levels of text beginning at the same point); 13:1; 14:1; 15:1; 17:1; 17:3b; and 19:11. With the exception of 17:3b, these have all been determined on other grounds to be important disjunctures in the text. A number of other results on a smaller scale are worth noting. The RT definition of the context of a communication as the ‘mutual cognitive environment’, including situational and intertextual as well as co-textual 34 If chs. 12–14 form an insertion either by the author or by an editor, then the earlier relationship of the bowls to the trumpets may have been much closer. But I have also demonstrated strong continuities between chs. 12–14 and what precedes them, so this is unlikely to be the case.

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elements, has led to the identification of structures not apparent if the text is considered in isolation. These include the structural role of the phrase
    , from Daniel 2; the place of Daniel 7 as a background structure to Revelation 7 and 13–14; the role of the ark of the covenant in 11:19; and the relationship of Revelation 7 to the Synoptic Apocalypse. Further, focussing on the physical and sociological context in which the communication was taking place has helped to make sense of the apparently disjointed voices of the end of ch. 22, and the earlier embedded shifts in communication axis. Finally, the necessity under the principle of relevance to prioritize potential contexts and the limits placed on how far a text is processed have led to the elimination of certain proposed ‘background’ texts, such as the suggestion of Isaiah 66 behind 11:19–12:5, or the suggestion that Babylonian or Canaanite mythology has real interpretive significance for John’s audience hearing Revelation 12.35 The people of God in the Apocalypse The second main goal of the discourse analysis was to identify the most significant passages where the people of God, in one guise or another, are featured. As might be expected, every major section of the Apocalypse has some reference to the people of God. However, there are long stretches in which they are present only by implication, or as a contrastive image to those actually in focus. As a result of the discourse analysis presented above, it is now possible to identify three different ways in which the people of God are represented in the Apocalypse, as addressees, as audience, and as actors. The third can be further analysed into three categories. (1)

Addressees

In the outermost layer of the Apocalypse, 1:1–11; 22:10–21, which includes slightly more than what is traditionally referred to as the ‘epistolary envelope’, real Christians in a particular social and religious environment are directly addressed by the author. While it is true that the whole book is a communication from the author to this audience, for most of the book he is narrating his visions, and other modes of reference are superimposed on the direct address to the readers/hearers. In this outer layer, by use of the conventions of letter-writing supplemented by prophetic 35 The issues mentioned in this paragraph can be found discussed in Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 91–2; 149–51; 119–20; 129; 95–9; 119; 146–7 respectively.

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words, the author is in the most direct, unmediated communication with his addressees.36 (2)

Audience

Within the first vision narrative, 1:12–3:22, while formally recounting his own experience, and indeed by means of recounting that experience, John is in fact communicating messages of encouragement, rebuke, challenge, and hope to the particular congregations to which the letter is addressed. It is by means of references in this layer of vision narration, rather than the outer one, that we find out most about the congregations, both those which receive approval and those which are rebuked. The real audience are very much in view. This is rarely the case in the second vision narrative, 4:1– 22:9, but the exceptions prove to be important. These occur exclusively in the second half, 12:1–22:9, and take the form of short asides to the audience, sometimes only a few words long. They are text sequences which do not have any obvious source or target within the vision narrative itself and make most sense as direct words from the author to his audience, although some are prophetic words and have a similar communication axis to the messages of Jesus to the churches. They occur, as already mentioned, at 13:9–10, 18; 14:12; 16:15; 17:9a; 19:6b; 20:5b–6; and 22:7.37 Further, the significance of these is enhanced when we note that all seven macarisms of the Apocalypse (1:3; 14:13; 16:15; 19:9; 20:6; 22:7; 22:14) are either part of the outer envelope of direct address to the audience, or are closely linked with one of these embedded situations of direct address. Taken together, the macarisms and the asides to the audience appear to be highly significant places where the content of the vision is integrated with John’s relationship to the churches and is given ethical and hortatory impact. (3)

Actors

With the exception of the direct asides mentioned above, the people of God feature in the second vision narrative (4:1–22:9) as actors in the 36 These addressees potentially include not only the members of the seven churches to which the letter is addressed, but also the wider group envisaged as audience by the title and some elements in the ending. 37 Vanni, ‘Liturgical Dialogue’, pp. 365–70, suggests that at these points we have a ‘tendency towards dialogue’. The liturgical nature of these asides must be questioned on the principle of relevance – by means of what assumptions would the audience infer that a liturgical process is inserted into the vision narration? Nevertheless, Vanni clearly emphasizes the change in communication situation which they demand.

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drama which is being presented, in three distinct ways. First, and most commonly, they are referred to in speeches by other actors, though they themselves are off stage in these particular scenes. They are part of creation (4:11), and more particularly the focus of the redemption effected by the death of the Lamb (5:9–10), they are secured against disaster (7:1– 8; cf. 9:4), their prayers are offered to God as incense (5:8, 8:3). God’s victory is theirs too and is their vindication and reward (11:18; 12:10–11; 17:14). The condemnation of the whore, Babylon, is based, at least in part, on her treatment of the people of God (17:6; 18:24), and they are called on to celebrate her downfall (18:4–7, 20). In none of these passages does John report seeing the saints or prophets or witnesses to Jesus. They are off stage, but very much part of the drama. The second mode of appearance of the people of God as actors is as members of a larger group on the heavenly stage. Frequently this group are involved in the worship of God (and so could be described as in the chorus), but there are a number of other occasions when they are present. In these places the people of God are not directly in focus, but nevertheless they are located within the cosmic scheme and, more particularly, in relationship to God. Thus they are implicitly part of the heavenly worship of all creation (5:13) and of the great crowd (19:1, 6), but are also presumably among those (‘on earth’) who are not found worthy to open the seals (5:3) and among those judged at the great white throne (20:11–15). We may also include here the references to the twenty-four elders, who are also a part of the chorus of heavenly worship (4:4, 10f.; 5:8–9; 11:16–18; 19:4), and who probably stand in some relationship to the old and new people of God. Finally, we should note the relatively few occasions on which the people of God, in one form or another, take centre stage as the focus of John’s vision. Here we are shown the souls of those beheaded, under the altar (6:9–11 and perhaps 16:7), the great crowd of those who have come through the tribulation worshipping the Lamb (7:9–17), and the two witnesses and prophets in the suffering and victory contingent on their ministry (11:3–13). The people of God are attacked by the dragon and the beasts (chs. 12–13, though it is the dragon and the beasts who are more clearly in focus through these chapters), the 144,000 followers of the Lamb stand with him on Mt Zion (14:1–5), the conquerors of the beast worship God in heaven (15:2–4), and the martyrs rule with Christ for 1,000 years, before again becoming the target of enemy attacks (20:4–10). In the New Jerusalem passages, we have to deal with a complex image of the people of God both as place and as inhabitants of that

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place (21:1–22:5). It is the city itself which is explicitly described, but the inhabitants are referred to as well, and the controlling image is of God dwelling in and with his people. The aim of the remainder of this study will be to examine in detail the references to the people of God as actors, particularly those where they are on centre stage, against the background of the communication situation envisaged between the author and the addressees and audience.

4 S O U L S U N D E R T H E A LTA R – A M A RT Y R ECCLESIOLOGY

4.1

Introduction

We begin our study of the role of the people of God in the second main vision section of the Apocalypse (4:1–22:9) with the vision of the fifth seal. Here, for the first time since the narration opened in 4:1, the people of God take centre stage as the main focus of the account. Previously their redemption has been referred to in the song of the twenty-four elders (5:9–10), who also carry the golden incense bowls containing the prayers of the saints (5:8). They are implicitly among those ‘on earth’ (5:3) who are not worthy to open the scroll, and also a part of the whole created order (including that ‘on earth’, 5:13) that joins the heavenly worship of the Lamb. The question of whether they are the object of some or all of the calamities of 6:1–8 will be addressed shortly, but it is not until 6:9 that a representation of the people of God becomes the direct object of John’s vision, and in such a way as to provide the audience, not with an easy point of identification, but with an implicit challenge to identification, which we shall find to be one of the primary modes of John’s rhetorical technique. The passage is also important as the starting point for a number of threads which are woven into the whole fabric of the book’s tapestry and form the basis for a major conclusion regarding the people of God in the Apocalypse: John challenges his audience to model themselves on the Lamb, finding vindication and victory through suffering and martyrdom (in its double sense of bearing witness and death as a result of witness).1 We begin by examining the contexts, both immediate and more distant, which are called up by the opening words of the vision narration. 1 J. P. Heil, ‘The Fifth Seal (Rev 6, 9–11) as Key to the Book of Revelation’, Bib 74 (1993), pp. 220–43, has extensively explored the connections between 6:9–11 and the rest of the Apocalypse. But his thesis that this passage forms the key to the whole book remains unconvincing, largely because the correspondences are often simply listed and not evaluated. It is hoped that the present chapter will at least begin to address this lack.

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Following the RT model for the continuing creation of cognitive environments, contexts evoked by later parts of the text will be dealt with as they arise. Next we shall note some of the words and concepts which are first found here in the Apocalypse and for which these verses form the point of departure in the text. Following this we examine what is said about the ‘souls of the slaughtered’, what they say, and the response they receive. Finally we shall trace the connections of this passage to a number of significant later passages and draw some conclusions about the rhetorical force of this particular thread of narrative. 4.2

The context of the vision

The opening words (
          ) tie this scene in to an immediate context, or set of contexts, which in turn have already laid open certain prior contexts. The opening of the seven seals (6:1–8:1 and beyond) is a tightly structured segment whose structure has been examined elsewhere.2 The whole sequence is a double vision, set on two stages. On the first stage is the Lion/Lamb standing beside the throne in heaven, surrounded by the angelic hosts (chs. 4–5). He holds the scroll, the focus of attention in ch. 5, and progressively opens each seal. His qualification to do this is that he has conquered (5:5), immediately interpreted in terms of having been slaughtered (5:6), and this has resulted in the redemption of people from every race (5:9–10). On the second stage a series of dramas, largely centred on the earth, is played out as each successive seal is opened. John, the narrator, is himself present in the throne room as shown by his interaction with the elders (5:4–5, and later at 7:13–17). All of this is immediately present to the audience’s understanding by virtue of the numbered seal-openings. The first four seals have themselves opened a number of contexts.3 The riders on four different-coloured horses clearly evoke the visions of Zech. 1:7–17; 6:1–8.4 But what is the point of the allusions? What meaning ‘bleeds over’ from Zechariah into the present context? We should note first that although the motif of the coloured horses is taken from Zechariah, John uses it freely for his own purposes. He has changed the 2 3 4

See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 124–41. See the helpful discussion in Beale, Revelation, pp. 372–4. On the influence of Zechariah on Revelation see J. Day, ‘The Origin of Armageddon: Revelation 16:16 as an Interpretation of Zechariah 12:11’, in S. E. Porter, P. Joyce, and D. E. Orton (eds.), Crossing the Boundaries: Essays in Biblical Interpretation in Honour of Michael D. Goulder (BI, 8; Leiden: Brill, 1994), p. 320.

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groups of horses, or chariots pulled by sets of horses, into four single horses with their riders. And he is far more interested in the riders than is Zechariah. In Zechariah 1 there is only one man standing in front of the horses, and in Zechariah 6 the riders in the chariots are only implicit. Nevertheless, the clear understanding in Zechariah that the horses or chariots with their riders are agents of God is echoed in Revelation by the summoning of each rider by a member of the heavenly court and in the sequence of ‘divine passives’ by which the riders are empowered.5 In Zechariah the horses or chariots are said to patrol the earth.6 Beale’s extrapolation from this, that they are agents of punishment, is supported by the LXX rendering of yjiWdAta≤ WjynIhe (Zech. 6:8) as      , suggesting that perhaps the translators were picking up an echo from Zech. 1:15 where God expresses anger at the nations (   !" #$ %&  #  ' () for their treatment of Jerusalem and Judah.7 Given the content of Rev. 6:9–11 it may well be that John is calling on just such an allusion in using Zechariah’s coloured horses. Two further features of the horses and their riders are worth noting briefly. First, the identification of the rider on the white horse has aroused more debate than any other, especially in the light of Rev. 19:11–16.8 I assume that he is of the same category as the other three riders, an agent of God sent to bring God’s punishments on the unbelieving world. Secondly, the four chariots in Zechariah 6 are explicitly identified in the text as ‘the four winds of heaven’ and in Jewish tradition as the four beasts of Daniel 7.9 # in verses 2, 3, and 8. Zech. 1:10, MT >JL]hj]hÆ ˘ LXX:  ) . Cf. also Zech. 6:7. Beale, Revelation, p. 372. D. Hill, Greek Words and Hebrew Meanings: Studies in the Semantics of Soteriological Terms (SNTSMS, 5; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), p. 219, suggests that tæWr is translated by * rather than ) because the latter lacks the psychological dimension of the Hebrew. This may well be so, but does not eliminate the influence of the wider context on the translator. 8 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 393–4; Beale, Revelation, pp. 375–8; M. Rissi, ‘The Rider on the White Horse: A Study of Revelation 6:1–8’, Int 18 (1964), pp. 407–18; A. Feuillet, ‘Le Premier Cavalier de l’Apocalypse’, ZNW 57 (1966), pp. 229–59; A. Kerkeslager, ‘Apollo, Greco-Roman Prophecy, and the Rider on the White Horse in Rev 6:2’, JBL 112 (1993), pp. 116–21; D. K. K. Wong, ‘The First Horseman of Revelation 6’, BSac 153 (1996), pp. 212–26; M. Bachmann, ‘Noch ein Blick auf den ersten apokalyptischen Reiter (von Apk 6.1–2)’, NTS 44 (1998), pp. 257–78; J. Herzer, ‘Der erste apokalyptische Reiter und der K¨onig der K¨onige. Ein Beitrag zur Christologie der Johannesapokalypse’, NTS 45 (1999), pp. 230–49; J. C. Poirier, ‘The First Rider: A Response to Michael Bachmann’, NTS 45 (1999), pp. 257–62. 9 See references in Beale, Revelation, pp. 386–7. Particularly significant are Targ. Zech. 2:1–4; 4:7; 6:1–8; Targ. Hos. 13:9; and Targ. Ps.-J. Lev. 26:22. Although the targums themselves are much later, it is possible that the traditions they represent may be early enough to be treated, with considerable caution, as a possible cognitive environment for Revelation. See n. 16 below. 5 6 7

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These links create possibilities that will only be picked up again in Revelation 7. The second set of potential contexts opened by the seal sequence is that of covenantal judgments or curses. Four means of judgment are listed in Rev. 6:8, # + %,  # " .-  # !/,  0  . %/ 1* 1*, though all but the beasts are also present in other parts of the four seal scenes. The same four elements of judgment, in a different order, are found in Ezek. 14:21.10 Here they are descriptive of God’s judgment on Jerusalem, which yet leaves some survivors to contemplate the reasons for the disasters (14:22–3). In the preceding verses similar judgments were hypothetically predicated of other nations (14:12–20). But this passage is only one of a number which, Aune points out, are relatively common in the ‘Deuteronomic portions of Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Chronicles.’11 These in turn stem from passages such as Lev. 26:18–28 and Deut. 32:23–7. The objects of these punishments are, in almost every case, the people with whom God has entered into a covenant relationship, who subsequently are unfaithful to the covenant.12 That the people of God have a share in the sufferings recorded in Rev. 6:1–8 may be supported by the observation that throughout these verses John avoids the use of the phrase 2   )* #  1* 1*, which he typically uses for unbelieving humanity.13 But when Beale claims that ‘in Revelation 6 . . . the church community is the focus of the judgments’, he goes far beyond the implicatures which are optimally relevant.14 To begin with he suggests that the ‘beasts of the earth’ are identical with the beasts which appear later, in Rev. 11, 13, 17, as persecutors of the people of God.15 But these passages cannot contribute to the relevance at this point, as none has yet been heard by the audience. On recursive reading or hearing an association may well be made, but given the differing contexts, it will be a somewhat puzzling association and possibly result in the tentative conclusion that the beasts mentioned in 6:8 may represent the same kind of phenomenon as the specific ones mentioned later. The targumic and midrashic evidence quoted by Beale, which identifies the beasts of Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 32 and the chariots of Zechariah 6 10 LXX: ! " 3 * 45' 6  '* * # 7 *   '* !* + 8 %  "   % '  !  # %"/ #  9 "  ) # "8 ) # :1* ;/   1 *. Note that the LXX has translated the MT’s singular hx;r; hy ;hæ by the plural % '. 11 Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 402, and references listed there. 12 Jer. 27:8, 13, like Ezek. 14:12–20, speaks hypothetically of ‘any nation’ that will not submit to God’s purpose as suffering these punishments. 13 Rev. 3:10; 6:10; 8:13; 11:10; 13:8, 12, 14; 17:2, 8. See Mounce, Revelation, p. 159. 14 Beale, Revelation, pp. 372–3. 15 Ibid., p. 386.

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with the four beasts and four kingdoms of Daniel 7, is much more to the point, but can only be used with caution, since the texts themselves are too late to constitute a cognitive environment for Revelation.16 In a much closer context, he argues that !   (Rev. 6:4) and   (Rev. 6:8) are linked to the use of the same two verbs in 6:9 and 6:11 respectively, where the object is clearly the people of God.17 This may work retrospectively, but not prospectively, suggesting that the fate of the martyrs occurred within the context of the more general woes, but not that these general woes are focussed on the people of God. What, then, is the intended focus or scope of the devastations arising from the first four seals? Recall again that in the majority of texts prior to Revelation where some or all of these means of judgment are mentioned it is the unfaithful covenant community which is the object of the divine punishment. In some passages it is suggested that a remnant will survive the punishments, and for these they have a purifying role.18 But we have noted a few passages where the same punishments might be applied to any nation, at least hypothetically.19 Aune suggests that the closest parallel to their use in Revelation comes in the Psalms of Solomon.20 Here we find that the covenant calamities are the portion of sinners, and that God saves the righteous from them. Beale himself appeals to Sirach 39–40 as evidence that the tradition, of which Rev. 6:8 is a part, recognizes that both the righteous and the unrighteous experience suffering. But note the nuancing of this in Sir. 40:8–9: ‘To all creatures, human and animal, but to sinners seven times more, come death and bloodshed and strife and sword, calamities and famine and ruin and plague.’21 The righteous themselves are not in focus at all. It is the whole of humanity that suffers, with a notably higher proportion for sinners.22 When we turn to Revelation, the descriptions of the results of opening the first four seals contain no suggestion of a purging or purifying of the people of God. Indeed, within the second vision account as a whole (4:1–22:9), in contrast to the first (1:12–3:22), there is no clear 16 Ibid., pp. 386–7. K. J. Cathcart and R. P. Gordon, The Targum of the Minor Prophets (AramBib, 14; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1989), pp. 16–18, can only suggest that most of the material they have presented dates from after AD 70. For a more positive conclusion regarding an early dating of the Palestinian Targum see M. McNamara, Targum and Testament. Aramaic Paraphrases of the Hebrew Bible: A Light on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972), pp. 86–9; McNamara, Palestinian Judaism, pp. 213–17; McNamara, The New Testament and the Palestinian Targum, p. 257. 17 Beale, Revelation, p. 389. 18 For example Ezek. 5:8–10; 12:16. 19 Jer. 27:8,13; Ezek. 14:12–20. 20 Pss. Sol. 13:2–3; 15:7; see Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 402. 21 Sir. 40:8–9, NRSV (my italics). 22 ‘Seven times’ itself suggests a common cognitive environment with Revelation.

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portrayal of God’s people in need of such purifying.23 Although an ethical choice is constantly being placed before the audience, the actors are portrayed in black and white, and the lines of division are uncrossed. Thus although the origin of the four-fold punishments lies in the covenant relationship between God and his people, well before John’s time they have become conventional symbols of God’s response to human rebellion.24 God’s people may share them by virtue of their membership in the human race, but they are not the particular focus. The tradition within which this convention is current is a more easily accessed context than any one of the particular texts in either canonical or extra-canonical literature.25 It is not necessary to go behind the tradition to obtain optimal relevance. This contention is supported by considering another possible cognitive environment within which our passage may be understood, the Synoptic Apocalypse. Many commentators have pointed to parallels, both in content and order, between the visions of the seals and the discourse preserved in different forms in all three Synoptic gospels.26 Here the covenant punishments have taken on an eschatological dimension. They are a part, not so much of God’s regular dealings with humanity, as of his ultimate sanction, and precursors of the eschaton. The persecution of Christ’s followers takes place in this context, but is not identified with the general suffering, which they are nevertheless expected to share.27 We conclude that the immediate context of Rev. 6:1–8, by its evocation of traditions of the sovereign intervention of God to bring about 23 In the first vision, 1:12–3:22, John has already warned some of the communities to which he writes of purifying judgments intended to provoke repentance. Note especially the threat of the sword to Pergamum (2:16) and of sickness and death to Thyatira (2:22–3). But equally there are indications that faithfulness will lead to suffering (2:3, 10) and a discrimination between the fate of the faithful and that of the rest of the world (3:10). 24 As evidenced by the passages from Sirach and Pss. Sol. referred to above. 25 Covenantal curses fit Afzal’s definition of a ‘communal icon’ as ‘a cognitive-social appropriation of an image by a community, that is, an element of the collective imagination that participants in communal conversation can assume they have in common, and that can be taught, edited, satirized, and referred to as a quick means of communicating a complex of ideas’. See C. Afzal, ‘The Communal Icon: Complex Cultural Schemes, Elements of Social Imagination (Matthew 10:32//Luke 12:8 and Rev 3:5, A Case Study’, in V. Wiles, A. Brown, and G. F. Snyder (eds.), Putting Body and Soul Together: Essays in Honor of Robin Scroggs (Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1997), p. 58. 26 Matthew 24; Mark 13; Luke 21. See Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 158–60; Farrer, Revelation, pp. 98–9, 103; Beale, Revelation, p. 373; Roloff, Revelation, p. 88; W. J. Harrington, Revelation (SacP, 16; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1993), p. 90; J. R. Michaels, Revelation (IVPNTC, Downer’s Grove, IL: IVP, 1997), pp. 101–3. 27 Note, for example, the eschatological sufferings, Matt. 24:5–8; the persecution of Christians, Matt. 24:9–13; the implication that Christians share the great suffering, Matt. 24:21–2.

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eschatological judgment on the world, has established for the audience a cognitive environment in which they understand themselves to be a part of the humanity that suffers, that this suffering is the result of God’s action, and yet they expect also to experience a unique dimension of that suffering in the form of persecution. This is the context in which the fifth seal is opened.28 4.3

New features of the passage

In complete contrast to the way in which the introduction to the fifth seal links the audience into an existing cognitive environment, the description of what John saw introduces some new items with little or no immediate precedent. The altar is the first of these, reappearing after this first occurrence at 8:3 (twice), 5; 9:13; 11:1; 14:18; 16:7.29 The definite article would presume the possibility of anaphoric reference. Either this is clumsy writing, or something about the previous descriptions has created the presumption that an altar is part of the scene. Charles argued that this ‘points to a current belief in the existence of an altar of burntoffering in heaven’.30 But the reason for the article can be found in a more immediate context, namely the scene depicted in chs. 4–5. Both Farrer and Yarbro Collins suggest that the throne-room vision has created the atmosphere of a temple, within which an altar is an expected item of furniture.31 Aune traces the origins of the scene to ‘the ancient 28 Non-textual features which might contribute to the cognitive environment include historical circumstances (for example the Domitianic edict about vines in the early 90s, or particular famines – see Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 398–400) or elements of the common world-view such as the influence of the stars, as discussed by Malina, Genre and Message, pp. 54, 121–8. These features do not appear to exercise a definitive role in establishing the prior context within which to read 6:9–11. Malina’s proposals cannot be lightly dismissed, founded as they are on an assumption consonant with RT, that the meaning of a book like Revelation must be sought within the mental outlook of first-century Mediterraneans (pp. 10–11). While Malina has demonstrated the importance of astrology in the period generally, he has not been able to establish its role in Christian literature. Note his acknowledgment, p. 19, that to call John an astral prophet is an assumption. 29 Cf. Heil, ‘The Fifth Seal’, p. 221, n. 2, who claims that it only occurs at 6:9 and 8:3. E. Lohmeyer, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (HNT, 16; T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1953), p. 63, leaving out 11:1, suggests that seven occurrences is probably not accidental. 30 Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 172. See also pp. 226–30. 31 Thus, in describing a dining room, it would be entirely in order to refer to ‘the table’ without having previously mentioned it, or without the audience’s knowledge of the existence of that particular table. See A. Yarbro Collins, The Apocalypse (NTM, 22; Wilmington, DE: Michael Glazier, 1979); Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery, p. 46; Farrer, Revelation, p. 101: ‘So the Presence may be seen as a temple, and we may look to find throne and altar both there.’

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conception of the divine council or assembly found in Mesopotamia, Ugarit and Phoenicia as well as in Israel’.32 But he goes on to say ‘Most throne visions, for obvious reasons, are set in heaven, though in some the earthly temple and heavenly throne room merge (e.g., Isa. 6:1–13)’, and cites, with implicit approval, Oswalt’s argument that to try and decide between the heavenly and earthly temples as locations for Isaiah 6 is to take the text too literally.33 These are helpful observations in the present case, especially as the altar appears, similarly assumed to exist in the context, in Isa. 6:6.34 The merging of a throne room with a heavenly representation of the temple, already a familiar image from Isaiah’s visions, would seem to offer the best explanation for the sudden appearance of the altar.35 Which of the two Israelite altars is represented by the heavenly altar is disputed, and John may even be blending the images.36 But certain important implicatures are made accessible by the concept of an altar without regard to which altar it is. These include the concepts of offering something to God (i.e. sacrifice) and of a cultically expressed relationship between humans and God. Musvosvi goes further and argues, first, that the altar represents the sacrifice itself, and further, that this connects it to OT concepts of judgment and vindication.37 These implicatures will be shown to have great significance for the understanding of the status of the people of God in the present text. Other roots or phrases which first occur in 6:9–11 (together with their subsequent appearances) are:

32 33

Aune, Revelation 1–5, p. 277. See also Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 59. Aune, Revelation 1–5, p. 277, following J. N. Oswalt, The Book of Isaiah, Chapters 1–39 (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), p. 176. 34 MT has the angel bring a coal tæBez“MIhæ lxæme, LXX:    )  % . 35 See further Stevenson, Power and Place, pp. 232–7, for a discussion of the interaction of images of temple, throne room, and altar. 36 See Exod. 27:1–8; 30:1–10; Heb. 9. Favouring the altar of incense are Beale, Revelation, p. 391; Farrer, Revelation, p. 101; Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery, pp. 80–1; and the altar of burnt offering Roloff, Revelation, p. 89; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 405; Sweet, Revelation, p. 142; G. B. Caird, The Revelation of St. John the Divine (London: A. & C. Black, 1966), p. 84; H. Kraft, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (HNT, 16a; T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1974), p. 119. F. J. Murphy, Fallen is Babylon: The Revelation to John (NTC, Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998), p. 208 and Mounce, Revelation, p. 157, follow Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 172, in holding that John’s altar blends the two. Although Malina, Genre and Message, pp. 128–32, can find evidence to support the idea of the Altar as a constellation, he does not account for John’s invariable term  7 . The textual references would appear to have an advantage here. 37 J. N. Musvosvi, Vengeance in the Apocalypse (AUSDDS, 17; Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1993), p. 187.

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The People of God in the Apocalypse <=7 (most similarly at 12:11; 20:4; otherwise at 8:9; 16:3; 18:13, 14) !&/ (7:2,10; 10:3; 12:2; 14:15; 18:2, 18, 19; 19:17) >/*  (unique)  * (unique) %/ (11:18; 16:5; 18:8, 20; 19:2, 11; 20:12, 13) # / (elsewhere only 19:2, associated also with the blood of saints) ? @. (the first reference to the blood of God’s people, subsequently at 16:6; 17:6; 18:24; 19:2)  "7 (7:9, 13, 14; 22:14)   (7:14; 9:4; 17:7; 19:3; 21:5, 6; 22:6; 22:17)  3/ (14:13) = *  * (the combination first here, then 20:3) 3 " * (19:10; 22:9; but note  )" * previously at 1:1 (twice); 2:20)

While some of these are incidental (for example  ), others are unique to this passage (for example >/*  and  *), or occur rarely and in contexts similarly focussed on martyrs (for example # /  3/ = *  *), and some become extremely important concepts in the rest of the book, and particularly in regard to the people of God (for example <=7 %/ ?  "7 3 " *). It is significant that although this passage has some very important links and echoes of earlier passages, it is equally important as the starting point for a large number of threads of meaning throughout the book, or the sounding board from which many later passages will pick up an echo. 4.4

The focus of the passage – the souls of the slaughtered

What John sees under the altar is souls. But which of the many senses of <=7 is intended, and how can they be seen?38 However, the second question is only a problem if the answer to the first involves disembodied spirits. In fact John does not appear too concerned to ensure that his audience can revisualize the visions he describes. His images work verbally 38 BAGD, pp. 901–2, distinguishes between literal uses of <=7 (such as life, life principle, breath, or soul as the centre of inner life or desire or emotions) and the use, by metonymy for a living creature, something which possesses a soul. See also the treatment in Musvosvi, Vengeance, pp. 196, 207–8; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 403–4; Michaels, Revelation, p. 106; Beale, Revelation, p. 391; Boring, Revelation, p. 125; Roloff, Revelation, p. 89.

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without having to be precisely visualized.39 So what is the verbal imagery doing here? It does not seem necessary to invoke an anthropology involving separable bodies and souls.40 The souls are people, clearly here people who have died. They have strong associations with other representations of the people of God as actors in the vision (for example, their prayer in verse 10 gives substance to the ‘prayers of the saints’ in 5:8), and as audience (for example, they are given white robes to wear, echoing the promise to the conquerors in Sardis, 3:5). Michaels comments that ‘within the horizons of John’s vision, these souls are people with voices and real bodies, like the “beheaded” souls of 20:4.’41 Yet their location under the altar, and the textual location of '* <='*, sandwiched between  )  %  and . #/, gives weight to a strong evocation of the link between <=7 and ? as in Lev. 17:11.42 This link is then made explicit in their cry for vindication, which we shall examine in the next section. The souls, then, are people, but people who have been killed, and whose death represents in some sense a sacrifice to God.43 The statement that the souls are of those who have been slaughtered immediately evokes two recent contexts – that of the second seal (6:4) 39 Examples of such images include the lion which turns out to be a lamb, the lamb standing as if slain, Death and Hades riding horses, and many more. Such word pictures may communicate visual images, but often these images cannot be rationalized, and John does not help his audience to rationalize them. This may explain why attempts to dramatize the Apocalypse rarely achieve anything like the effect of the written text. And while the Apocalypse has inspired many works of art, the ones that come nearest to capturing its effect are often the most bizarre and unsettling. See, for example, the pictures of women in the Apocalypse in Pippin, Death and Desire, pp. 133–44, and other pictures in J.-P. Pr´evost, How to Read the Apocalypse, trans. John Bowden and Margaret Lydamore (London: SCM Press, 1993), esp. pp. 78, 98; and C. Sahuguet, L’Apocalypse de Jean (Saint-Maurice: Editions Saint-Augustin, 1998). See also J. Alexander, ‘The Last Things: Representing the Unrepresentable’, in Carey, The Apocalypse and the Shape of Things to Come, pp. 43–63. 40 As do Knight, Revelation, p. 69; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 404. 41 Michaels, Revelation, p. 106 (italics in the original). This view is in keeping with the meaning of the Hebrew vp,{n e, generally understood as a living creature or person, or as ‘individuated life’. See H. Seebass, ‘vp,{n,’, in TDOT IX, pp. 497–519. Attempts to deduce from Rev. 6:9 ideas about the ‘intermediate state’, either in John’s thinking or as objective reality, fail to take into account the symbolic (rather than ontological) nature of Revelation’s images. 42 Lev. 17:11, LXX (with key words underlined): @ ' <= !* * ? : ) #   #$ / : 0 #   )  %  # "!  . <=. 0.  ' ? : )  1* <=1* # "! . 43 The connection between the souls and the blood of sacrifice is stressed by Farrer, Revelation, p. 102; Roloff, Revelation, p. 89; Caird, Revelation, p. 84; Sweet, Revelation, p. 142; G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation (NCB; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1974), p. 135.

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and that of the slaughtered Lamb (5:6, 9, 12). Although the former is more recent, it is less strongly evoked and the predominant association is with the slaughtered Lamb.44 The opening of the second seal sees a rider on a red horse permitted to take peace from the earth  A ""7" * !  . Not only is the verb here future active indicative, as opposed to the perfect passive participle in 6:9, but its object is the reciprocal pronoun ""7" *. Access to this context then raises the unanswerable question of whether the slaughtered souls, or even Christians in general, have themselves taken part in the slaughter of others. To attempt to answer this requires unnecessary processing effort and returns few results. On the other hand, the slaughtered Lamb stands over the whole of the sealopenings as the primary subject, and the perfect passive participle of !&/ has twice been used of him.45 So while the association of the death of the martyrs with the period of mutual slaughter may be weakly implied, the association of these people with the Lamb is much more strongly so. These are people whose story is, at least with regard to their death, like the story of the Lamb.46 This association is further reinforced by the following words, which give the reason for the death of those whose souls John sees,  '  "   )  )   '   % B = . Feuillet attempts to distinguish this from Christian witness, but the distinction will not stand.47 John has twice used very similar words of his own ministry (1:2, 9). At 1:9 the words perform the same function as the phrase in 6:9, as they give the reason for John’s exile on Patmos. Further they begin with an identical grammatical form ( '  "   )  )), the echo of which would leave the audience with the strong presupposition that the second half of the phrase in 6:9 is intended to mean the same as that of 1:9,    % 4 9 ). Add to this the double reference to Jesus as witness (1:5; 3:14), and we may conclude that Christian martyrs are the primary reference.48 Yet it may be that the change in wording (John will refer again to % 4 9  in 12:17; 19:10 (twice); and 20:4) is 44 46

45 5:6, 12, and an aorist passive at 5:9. See p. 72 above. The connection between the martyrs and the Lamb is noted by Roloff, Revelation p. 89; Beale, Revelation, p. 391. 47 A. Feuillet, ‘Les Martyrs de l’humanit´ e et l’Agneau e´ gorg´e: une interpr´etation nouvelle de la pri`ere des e´ gorg´es en Ap 6, 9–11’, NRT 99 (1977), pp. 189–207. So Kraft, Offenbarung, pp. 119–20; and Mealy, After the Thousand Years, p. 85, n. 1, p. 111. 48 So Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 174; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 405; Roloff, Revelation, p. 64. The use of the English word ‘martyr’ here is dependent on the whole noun phrase, not on the occurrence of the - root. That the word family as used in Revelation contains nuances of its later martyrological sense was argued by p. Vassiliadis, ‘The Translation of Martyria Iesou in Revelation’, BT 36 (1985), pp. 129–34, and later opposed by F. Mazzaferri, ‘Martyria I¯esou Revisited’, BT 39 (1988), pp. 114–22, who sees %

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deliberate and intended to broaden the reference to include pre-Christian martyrs, as we shall see that the cry for vindication strongly evokes the plight of such people.49 It is not necessary to speculate on whether John has a particular group of martyrs in mind. All that is needed for this image to work is that the possibility of Christians meeting a violent death because of their faith must be within the audience’s cognitive landscape. That this is the case is evidenced by the example of Antipas (2:13). And even at the end of the first century, memories of the Neronic persecutions would have been emotively powerful, especially when refreshed by recent examples, however rare.50 The reference to the souls under the altar here harnesses this evocative memory in order to motivate the audience.51 This reason for the martyrs’ death, then, forges strong links with their Lord, himself the faithful witness, whose witness they have received and hold. But it also links these unknown martyrs in a vision, with real Christians known to the audience. These include Antipas, also a faithful witness, who was killed in Pergamum (2:13), but also John, whose witness to the word of God and the testimony of Jesus they are currently hearing (cf. 1:2), and who has himself suffered for this very reason (1:9). Although he is still very much alive, the combination of 1:9 with 6:9 would suggest that John sees himself as potentially a part of the ‘noble army’ of martyrs. The testimonies of Jesus, Antipas, and John already provide a paraenetic dimension to this vision, moving the audience in the direction of an ethical choice. This movement will climax in 6:11. But are the ‘souls of those slaughtered’ only literal martyrs? Beale argues that the use of !&/ is ‘most likely . . . metaphorical and those spoken of represent the broader category of all saints who suffer for the sake of their faith’.52 He points to the use of ‘overcome’ in chs. 2–3, and elsewhere, for all believers ‘who conquer temptations to sin and to compromise in the face of various kinds of suffering’.53 But the concept of believers overcoming is not evoked at all by our verses and can 4 9  as primarily the prophetic contents of the entire book. See also the editorial summary, P. Ellingworth, ‘The Marturia Debate’, BT 41 (1990), pp. 138–9. 49 See Sweet, Revelation, p. 142; Caird, Revelation, p. 84; Boring, Revelation, p. 124; Michaels, Revelation, p. 105. 50 In our own day we can compare with this the evocative power of the Holocaust after sixty years. 51 It is not necessary to assume that John has future martyrs in mind, as Harrington, Revelation, p. 93, and Boring, Revelation, p. 124, suggest. But his interest is in the future. He uses the concept of martyrdom to motivate the audience’s future behaviour, as we shall see below. 52 Beale, Revelation, p. 390. See also Musvosvi, Vengeance, p. 197. 53 Beale, Revelation, p. 390.

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scarcely control the meaning of !&/. There is an indirect link via the slaughtered Lamb who is also the overcoming Lion. And there will be a subsequent link in 12:10–12. But there is nothing in our present passage that justifies the extra processing effort required to access the wider context of those who overcome elsewhere in the book. Beale further appeals to the wider use of sacrificial language for Christian suffering in general throughout the NT, and to inferences drawn from Rev. 14:12–13 and 20:4–6. These arguments rely on presumptions of cognitive environments which may not be present when the audience encounter our text. For the wider NT context to be influential we would need to establish not only that the NT traditions associating non-fatal suffering with sacrifice were available to the audience, but also that the extra processing required to access them would yield sufficient results to be worthwhile. It is reasonable to allow that the first condition might be met.54 But the association with the altar and the immediately following cry for vindication of blood require a concentration on the more literal meaning of slaughter here. Subsequent passages in Revelation may impact repeated reading or hearing, but cannot influence the meaning taken from the text on first hearing. There seems little evidence, then, at this point in the text, to soften the force of !&/ and every encouragement to take it at face value. When the whole Apocalypse has been heard, it will be clear that suffering for the faith involves many things before death. But the witnessing church is first and foremost identified collectively as a martyr church, patterned after the martyr status of the Lamb.55 What does John intend to communicate by locating the souls ‘under the altar’? Most commentators pay little attention to the force of the preposition or assume that it is equivalent to ‘at the base of’ the altar.56 Michaels challenges this assumption, and his challenge is supported by 54 Although even in the Synoptic Apocalypse persecution is not described in terms of sacrifice. Closer to the mark are Matt. 10:38–9; 16:24–6, referred to by Beale, where the disciples are challenged by Jesus to ‘take up [their] cross and follow me’. Identification with Jesus’ suffering and persecution by authorities are ideas present in both contexts. Of the other passages mentioned by Beale, it is much less certain that either Romans (8:35–9; 12:1–2) or Philippians (2:17) would have been known to the Asian Christians, and the latter may, in any case, point to death as a sacrifice. 55 For a detailed treatment of the association of martyrdom with sacrifice in the OT and the NT see Musvosvi, Vengeance, pp. 189–98. 56 The latter view is always associated with the soul–blood link being highlighted. M. G. Reddish, ‘The Theme of Martyrdom in the Book of Revelation’ (Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Louisville, KY: Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1982), p. 162, n. 89, suggests Lev. 4:7, Gen. 4:10, and 1 Enoch 47:1–2 as forming the background. See also Boring, Revelation, p. 125; Caird, Revelation, p. 84; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 135. Farrer, Revelation, p. 102, speaks of the blood flowing into hollows under the altar. Similarly Roloff, Revelation, p. 89.

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relevance considerations.57 0 !/ is a strong preposition already used by John for the regions under the earth (5:3, 13). If John had intended merely ‘at the base of’ the altar, he could have communicated it by a less marked phrase.58 The extra processing effort involved implies that some extra cognitive effects are intended. Michaels suggests that the souls are located on the earth directly under the heavenly altar.59 Thus the fifth seal would follow the others in that its action takes place on earth. Combined with the proposal that the seal sequence takes place on two stages, this verse suggests that the heavenly stage is vertically above the earthly, and that John’s vision is a three-dimensional representation of the layered universe.60 But why under the altar rather than the throne? Or are the two the same? Although some writers point to Jewish beliefs which connected the altar with the throne of God, Beale overstates it in asserting ‘the virtual equation in both Revelation and Jewish writing of this altar with the throne of God’.61 At least within Revelation, there is association and yet distinction between these two important symbols, for example at 8:3–4; 9:13; 20:4–6. It is better to associate the altar with its cultic symbolism, as the point of contact between earth and heaven. Sacrifices and incense offered on earthly altars have effect in heaven and draw a response from heaven.62 This concept of the altar as nexus fits the threedimensional imagery we have found in the text, but also summarizes the many expressions that have been given to the altar imagery.63 All of these express, in one way or another, that the sacrificial death of the martyrs links them closely with heaven and the throne of God.64 And the following verses will only serve to confirm this as the altar becomes, 57 58

Michaels, Revelation, p. 106. Michaels, ibid., suggests either '   C!   )  % , following Lev. 4:7, or #D , as at Rev. 4:5, 6. 59 It is ‘from the earth’ that Abel’s blood cries out to God, Gen. 4:10. See Farrer, Revelation, p. 102. Boring, Revelation, p. 126, while retaining the view that the souls are in heaven, nevertheless locates the action that this verse describes on earth. 60 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 402–3. Malina, Genre and Message, p. 129, claims that 0 !/ is a technical term used in astronomy. This presumes that John’s audience would have needed some skill in astronomy to access this meaning. In the absence of evidence for this I prefer the explanation suggested above. 61 Beale, Revelation, p. 391. See also Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 173; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 404–5. 62 See, for example, Gen. 8:20–2; 22:9–11; Lev. 16:12–14; 17:5–6; 1 Kings 18:30–9. 63 Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery, p. 84, describes the altar in Revelation as ‘the symbolic two-way conduit by means of which the prayers of the saints are offered, received, and returned to them in God’s affirmative answer and action’. 64 See Mounce, Revelation, p. 157; Roloff, Revelation, p. 89; Farrer, Revelation, p. 102; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 404; Musvosvi, Vengeance, pp. 185–9; Beale, Revelation, pp. 391–2.

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from this perspective, the channel of communication both from and to the martyrs.65 Here, then, in a few carefully chosen words, John has turned his audience’s attention from the chaos and strife of the world (as depicted in the first four seals) to the place of the church in the world. In the first direct view he gives of the people of God, they are portrayed as a martyr people, whose witness to God’s truth and maintenance of the testimony of Jesus have led to their violent death. Yet by that very death they are identified with their Lord, the Lamb who himself was slaughtered, and linked in the most intimate way to the courts of heaven, their very existence demanding God’s attention.

4.5

The cry of the martyrs

When the martyrs give voice, they do so loudly, contributing to an already noisy heaven! Theirs is the fourth loud voice, following that of Christ (1:10), the mighty angel (5:2), and the host of angels (5:12).66 Is this an echo of the blood of Abel which cries aloud to God from the ground?67 Although this is a likely allusion, it is also significant that here the voice of the martyrs is described in similar terms to other heavenly voices, a point we shall return to in the next chapter. The cry of the martyrs is directed to their  *, a word used uniquely here in Revelation.68 Does this refer to God or to Christ? The double attributes (E * and " *) have already been used in the selfdescription of the risen Christ to the church at Philadelphia (3:7), " * again similarly to the church of Laodicea (3:14), and God on the throne has been worshipped with the trishagion at 4:8. This would seem to weigh slightly in favour of a reference to Christ here, although God would be 65 Note the comment of Michaels, Revelation, p. 106: ‘he wrote under the altar, probably because the vision centered on what he calls elsewhere “the prayers of the saints” (5:8; 8:3– 4). Not the souls themselves but their prayers are the sacrifices that ascend like incense from earth to heaven – from “under the altar” to the altar itself’ (italics in the original). 66 The first occurrence of !&/, is at 6:11; thereafter it appears at 7:2, 10; 10:3; 12:2; 14:15; 18:2, 18, 19; 19:17. Loud voices are also common. Apart from those mentioned above, they proceed from individual angels at 7:2; 10:3; 14:7, 9, 15, 18; 19:17; from an eagle at 8:13; from (presumably) God at 11:12; 16:1, 17; 21:3; from a multitude of believers in heaven at 7:10; and presumably the same multitude at 19:1. For the occurrences at 11:15 and 12:10 it is less easy to determine the origin. 67 Gen. 4:10, although the verb used there by the LXX is C !/. 68 Elsewhere in the NT it is used of God in Luke 2:29; Acts 4:24 (metaphorically in 2 Tim. 2:21?); of Jesus in 2 Pet. 2:1; Jude 4; and of human masters (usually opposed to  )" *) in 1 Tim. 6:1, 2; Tit. 2:9; 1 Pet. 2:18.

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the most readily assumed addressee of a prayer for vindication.69 It may well be that John is deliberately creating an overlap of reference as part of his narrative christology.70 In any case, the address almost certainly has a polemic dimension, appealing to the divine sovereign above the emperor.71 By far the most common use of E * in the entire book is for the saints, the people of God.72 Already at 5:8 the prayers of the saints are present before the Lamb but are not verbalized. Here they are heard clearly, and the term of address they use itself emphasizes their identification with their Lord. By contrast, human beings are never described as " *, a term reserved for God’s judgments, his ways, and his words (15:3; 16:7; 19:2, 9), for the rider on the white horse (19:11), and for the words of John’s guiding angel (21:5; 22:6). The substance of the martyrs’ cry led Charles and others before and since to charge John with inciting sub-Christian feelings of vengeance.73 But this appeal stands in a long tradition of the cries of innocent sufferers against their oppressors.74 Musvosvi has shown that these are based on the appeal to a sovereign for vindication and justice.75 Furthermore, it is 69 Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 407, concludes from the seventeen uses of  * for God in the LXX that this is the most likely reference here. Heil, ‘The Fifth Seal’, p. 223, takes the closer allusion of the pair of adjectives to Christ in Rev. 3:7 as determinative. 70 See the discussion in P. R. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels: Angelology and the Christology of the Apocalypse of John (SNTSMS, 95; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 113, and the references there. 71 See Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 64. 72 So at 5:8; 8:3, 4 (of their prayers); 16:6; 17:6; 18:24 (of their blood); 19:8 (of their righteous deeds); 13:7,10; 14:12; 18:20; 20:9 (other references, usually involving conflict). Other uses of E * are for the holy city (11:2; 21:2,10; 22:19); the holy angels (14:10); and holy individuals (20:6; 22:11). Never again, after 6:10, is it used of God or Christ. 73 Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 175, although Charles contrasts this single cry with the repeated calls for vengeance in Jewish Apocalyptic (pp. 175–6). See also Ford, Revelation, p. 4; and discussions in W. Klassen, ‘Vengeance in the Apocalypse of John’, CBQ 28 (1966), pp. 300–11; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Persecution and Vengeance in the Book of Revelation’, in Hellholm, Apocalypticism in the Mediterranean World, pp. 729–50. For further references see Musvosvi, Vengeance, pp. 2–3. 74 Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 407–10, details many illustrative examples from biblical and extra-biblical sources, helpfully suggesting that Rev. 6:10 ‘is based on a type scene, in which, as it were, the clients of a patron petition him or her for justice or vindication’ (p. 408). Bauckham, Climax, pp. 48–56, discusses the relationship with 1 Enoch. Beale, Revelation, p. 392, in an otherwise helpful section, resorts to unnecessary rationalization when he says, ‘We may speculate that they are able to pray curses onto people because they now have God’s knowledge of who is ultimately rebellious and reprobate’ (p. 392). 75 Musvosvi, Vengeance, esp. pp. 206–16, 221–32. He concludes (p. 232): ‘Thus the martyrs’ cry in Rev 6:10 must be seen as a legal plea in which God is asked to conduct a legal process leading to a verdict that will vindicate his martyred saints.’ This point is well made, so long as we do not imagine that we have heard actual martyrs under an actual altar. Musvosvi comes close to making this category error in saying (p. 206), ‘it is clear . . . that the martyrs had faced legal charges’.

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equally a cry for the vindication of God himself, or, as Mounce puts it, ‘a cry for theodicy not revenge’.76 Vindication of God’s people is intimately tied to vindication of God himself. Two among many OT passages contributing to the cognitive environment of this verse deserve special mention.77 Psalm 79 (LXX 78) contains the cry ‘How long, O Lord’, a reference to devastation by wild animals of the earth, blood of God’s servants poured on the ground, the appeal for vindication of the blood of God’s people, and a request for seven-fold vengeance.78 The ground for the appeal is the destruction and defilement of Jerusalem, and vindication clearly implies the restoration of the city. This becomes explicit in the other passage. The four horsemen who appeared on the opening of the first four seals evoked Zechariah 1, where the angel asks, ‘O Lord of hosts, how long will you withhold mercy from Jerusalem . . .?’79 The answer which the Lord gives (verse 16) is ‘I have returned to Jerusalem with compassion; my house shall be built in it . . . and the measuring line shall be stretched out over Jerusalem.’ These contexts establish a link between the fate of Jerusalem and that of God’s people, and raise an expectancy of a positive answer to the cry of the martyrs, one which involves the future of Jerusalem.80 It is scarcely coincidental, then, that Revelation’s final extended image is of the New Jerusalem, in which the people of God find their corporate identity as the 76 Mounce, Revelation, p. 158. See also Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 64; Roloff, Revelation, p. 90. 77 See Beale, Revelation, pp. 392–3, for others. 78 LXX, Ps. 78:2, with correspondences underlined: ( '   .  3"/   CD  *   *  ) : ) '* !* . F%/    * % * 1* 1* 3 #=  ? :. . . . 5 >/*  3   η G* " * . . . 10 . . .  /7/ #  * (  #D  . ". @. @ #% *  ) A * .  3"/    ) #= . 79 Zech. 1:12, though here the LXX renders ‘How long’ as >/* % *. See above, pp. 69–70. 80 As further evidence that Zech. 1 forms a part of the mutual cognitive environment note that Zechariah is ‘son of Berechiah’ (Zech. 1:7). Matt. 23:29–36 reflects a tradition that this is the name of the last martyr recorded in the Hebrew scriptures, in 2 Chron. 24:20–2. The MT and the LXX disagree on the name, but both record his dying appeal to God for vindication. Note further that, in addition to the many lexical and semantic links between our present passage and Matt. 23:34–5 (. . . # :.    D . . . 35  /* (", # 4 0H* H ? %  #=  #  1* 1*    ) I * JKC"  )  %  >/*  ) A * L=%  2 ) M=%  N # 3 O  )  )   )  % ), Jesus also challenged the Pharisees to ‘fill up’ (Matt. 23:32,

"D, cf. Rev. 6:11, >/* "/. ) the measure of their ancestors’ crimes. It is possible, then, that Zechariah 1, the traditions about the death of Zechariah, and the traditions of Jesus’ denunciation of the Pharisees form a mutually interacting part of the cognitive environment within which John communicates. There is perhaps even a weak implicature that unbelieving Jews are included with ‘the inhabitants of the earth’ who stand in disobedience to God and are the oppressors of his servants.

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bride of the Lamb.81 By means of the cognitive environment it opens, this verse creates a scarcely conscious tension which will only be resolved in the book’s closing scene. That this is the case is further supported by the verbs that form the core of the appeal. %/ and # / both make their first appearance in Revelation here, and while the latter only recurs in 19:2, in thanksgiving for the fulfilment of this appeal, %/ is frequently used of the action of God.82 It is the final act of judgment (20:11–15) which immediately gives way to the appearance of the New Jerusalem (21:1–4). If the hope of restoration of Jerusalem lies just below the surface, the hope of God’s righteous judgment (which is its prerequisite) is a fully conscious theme whose exposition in Revelation originates from this verse. The appeal of the martyrs is for the vindication of their blood. ? has ramifications both forwards and backwards. This is the first reference to the blood of God’s people, but their violent death is used repeatedly as the ground for the fulfilment of this plea for vindication.83 But the image of blood itself is not new here, having already been used in two closely linked verses on different levels of the text: at 1:5 of the blood of Jesus which has loosed author and audience from their sins, and at 5:9 of the blood of the slaughtered Lamb which has ransomed people of every nation for God. This strengthens the close association already established by the perfect participle of !&/, between Christ and his followers (6:9, cf. 5:6, 12). These souls, freed from sin and ransomed for God by the death of the Lamb, have themselves been slaughtered and their death is now the grounds for God’s action. Finally, in relation to the cry of the martyrs we note, for the first time in the vision that began at 4:1, a polarity within the ranks of humanity. In the throne-room scene of chs. 4–5 there is no clear reference to humans other than those who worship God and the Lamb.84 And the disasters that follow the opening of the first four seals appear to affect all of humanity. But here there is a distinction between the souls of the martyrs and 2   )* #  1* 1*. This distinction appeared in the first vision at 3:10, where the church at Philadelphia is promised protection from the trial that will test the earth-dwellers. And from this point on in the second 81 Nor is it coincidental that it is Babylon which must be destroyed before Jerusalem is renewed. Sweet, Revelation, p. 141, is unique in offering a hint of a contact with the New Jerusalem. 82 Of God in 11:18; 16:5; 18:8, 20; 19:2; 20:12, 13 and of the rider on the white horse in 19:11. Note also % * in 14:7; 16:7; 18:10; 19:2. 83 Rev. 16:6; 17:6; 18:24; 19:2. 84 There may be a hint, it is true, in that the Lamb has ransomed to God # !* "1*  "D*  " )  ( * (5:9).

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vision, the phrase becomes a standard way of describing humanity which refuses to recognize God and the Lamb.85 John, by his description of the cry of the martyrs, has continued the process of identification between the people of God and their Lord, by their loud voice, by their appeal to their sovereign as ‘holy’ (the grounds for their own identity as saints), and most importantly by the shedding of their blood. But he has also introduced a division within humanity and set up a tension, in the cry for judgment and vindication, which will dominate the remainder of the book. 4.6

The response to the martyrs

The divine response to the martyrs (6:11) may appear both anticlimactic and puzzling.86 Why are they given white robes? And why only after their appeal? Few contemporary commentators follow Charles in explaining the white robes as heavenly or spiritual bodies.87 Beale points out that in texts roughly contemporary with Revelation, robes are symbols of bodies, but never white.88 Sch¨ussler Fiorenza sees the robe as a sign of participation in the marriage feast of the Lamb.89 This could not be an implicature communicated on first reading, although it may have some force on recursive reading. Aune encompasses the views of numerous commentators when he states ‘White robes, the characteristic garb of heavenly beings . . . are also used as a polyvalent metaphor for salvation, immortality, victory and purity.’90 85 86

Rev. 8:13; 11:10; 13:8, 12, 14; 17:8; 17:2. See also Mounce, Revelation, p. 159. The aorist passives # and # are ‘passives of divine activity used as circumlocutions for the name of God’ (Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 410). The former is used twenty times in Revelation, already at 6:2, 4, 8 (seals 1, 2, 4). 87 Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 184–8. But see Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 64; Caird, Revelation, p. 86. 88 Beale, Revelation, p. 394. Asc. Isa. 9:9 speaks of the dead clothed in ‘higher garments’ and compares them to ‘angels who stand there in great glory’. See W. Schneemelcher (ed.), New Testament Apocrypha, Volume Two: Writings Relating to the Apostles; Apocalypses and Related Subjects, trans. R. McL. Wilson (Cambridge: James Clarke & Co., 1992), p. 615. 89 Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 64. 90 Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 410. See also Aune, Revelation 1–5, p. 223, where he points to a number of other contextual precedents for wearing white, including that of priesthood (but note that neither of the OT references he quotes, Exod. 28:4 and Lev. 16:4, describes the garments as white), and perhaps more relevantly, the fact that by the first century Jews were buried in white. Cf. Farrer, Revelation, p. 102; Mounce, Revelation, p. 160. Roloff, Revelation, p. 90, relates the garments to salvation ‘on the basis of Christ’s saving act’, but adds that this must issue in ethical conduct; similarly Beale, Revelation, p. 394. Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 164, says that the robes are a symbol of justification. These latter views rely more on reformed theology than the immediate context.

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There are, in fact, remarkably few textual precedents to assist the hearer in understanding these white robes. The Ancient of Days had garments white as snow in Dan. 7:9.91 Similar descriptions are used in the gospels of Jesus’ transfiguration, and of the young man or angels at the empty tomb.92 John’s vision of the risen Jesus does not specify the colour of his garment, but the similarities to the description of the Ancient of Days would probably have implied a white robe by metalepsis.93 Although  "7 is used first in 6:11, and will be an important link into ch. 7, connections would surely have been made to the white robes of the twentyfour elders (4:4) and those promised to the conquerors at Sardis (3:4–5) and which the Laodiceans are urged to buy from Christ (3:18).94 The context of the message to Sardis brings with it two important implications. First, the state of the garments clearly reflects the behaviour and ethical state of the wearers. For the majority, Christ has ‘not found your works perfect in the sight of my God’ (3:2), and these are presumably those whose garments are soiled (3:4). Of the few who have not soiled their garments, Christ says, ‘they will walk with me dressed in white, for they are worthy’. The promise of companionship with Christ carries the additional weak implicature that he is also dressed in white. Secondly, the promise to the conquerors links white garments with eternal life and acknowledgment before the heavenly court (3:5). The works (' () of each of the churches are scrutinized and, in the case of Laodicea, found wanting (3:15). Contrary to their self-perception they are described as ‘naked’ and urged to buy white garments ‘to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen’ (3:18). Here again the ethical implications of the garments are prominent.95 It would seem an easy step to relate the specific  "7 of 6:11 to both the 7* of 1:13 and the more generic 2!  of 3:5, 18; 4:4. These provide a readily accessible cognitive environment yielding optimal relevance, without going any further back. The cognitive effects for Dan. 7:9 (Th.):  ( : ) P = $ ". See also 1 Enoch 14:20. Matt.17:2; Mark 9:3; Luke 9:29; Matt. 28:3; Mark 16:5; John 20:12. So also the angel in Acts 1:10. 93 J. P. Louw and E. A. Nida (eds.), Greek–English Lexicon of the New Testament Based on Semantic Domains (New York: United Bible Societies,1988), vol. I, p. 74, list  "7 (‘a long, flowing robe’, as in 6:11) and 7* (‘a long robe reaching to the feet’, as in 1:14), next to each other, indicative of close semantic links. 94 In each case the word is the more generic 2!  (see Louw and Nida, Greek–English Lexicon, vol. I, p. 74, ‘any type of outer garment’). 95 The cognitive link between garments and ethical behaviour is retrospectively strengthened by an explicit statement in 19:8 identifying the bride’s linen garments with '   D8  . Q%/. See D. A. McIlraith, ‘ “For the Fine Linen is the Righteous Deeds of the Saints”: Works and Wife in Revelation 19:8’, CBQ 61 (1999), pp. 525–8. 91 92

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the audience relate both to the status of the martyrs and to the ethical choices they themselves face. The martyrs are identified with other heavenly beings, and in particular with the risen Christ, qualified as residents of heaven. This is the reward for their works. They are assured of eternal life and the ability to stand and be acknowledged before God. And although ethical behaviour is scarcely any longer an issue for the martyrs themselves, there is a strong implication that the martyr church is a pure church. Thus the audience are reminded of the ethical choices facing them if they are to be identified with the martyrs. The second part of the response to the martyrs is an instruction to continue at rest for a short while. Although Aune shows strong connections between ‘rest’ and death (or the state of those who have died) in the wider literary context, this yields few cognitive results in our present verse as the martyrs are already dead.96 As a response to the martyrs’ cry for vindication the instruction carries rather more positive force. Vindication has nothing more to do with their own actions and their role is now that of positive inaction. Since this communication is embedded in John’s vision narration, we note that these are not ‘real’ people but elements of a vision. The rhetorical force of this verse is not, therefore, an instruction to people who have died but a communication to people who still live. Thus the charge to rest continues the process begun in the previous clause, that is, to turn attention back from the actors to the audience, from the martyrs to those who are not yet at rest. The indication of time-scale, ( =   , also functions in two ways. It is a direct answer to the martyrs’ question ‘How long?’, and it gives a sense of imminence to the implications of the latter part of the verse, to which we now turn. The time for which the martyrs are to wait (>/* "/.  . . . P*  : %) is commonly associated with apocalyptic texts in which a fixed number of righteous people has to be attained before the eschaton.97 After an examination of possible literary relationships, Bauckham concludes that these texts are independent but draw on a common tradition which they had received in different forms.98 John uses this tradition within the seal sequence ‘to raise, for the first time, a major theme of his prophecy: that the remaining interval before the coming of God’s kingdom is the 96 97

Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 411. Ibid., p. 412; Beale, Revelation, p. 394; Bauckham, Climax, pp. 48–56; P.-M. Bogaert, ‘Les Apocalypses contemporaines de Baruch, d’Esdras et de Jean’, in Lambrecht, L’Apocalypse johannique, pp. 47–68. 98 Bauckham, Climax, p. 54, comparing Rev. 6:11 with 1 Enoch 47:1–4, 4 Ezra 4:35–7, and 2 Bar. 23:4–5a. Only 1 Enoch 47 is allowed as even a possible source.

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period in which God’s faithful people must bear witness to the point of suffering and death’.99 Thus, the most important implication to be drawn is the identification of the audience with those yet to be killed. The faithfulness of their witness is in some way connected with the period until the full establishment of God’s kingdom and the vindication for which the martyrs pray. Some elements of the scene depicted under the fifth seal lead the audience to identify with the souls under the altar, notably their adherence to the word of God and the testimony of Jesus and their suffering at the hands of the majority population. But this developing identity is arrested here. The martyrs lost their lives because of their witness to God’s word. The members of the audience are still very much alive, but great significance is now being given to their witness. It is not a casual matter of their personal preference to risk all by their witness or to retain their comfort and security. What is at stake is the timing of the eschaton, the completion of the victory of God. Before this can happen, more Christians must be ‘faithful unto death’ (2:10) to ‘fill up’ the number. The real addressees have already been identified, alongside John, as God’s slaves (1:1) and with John as " % with whom he shares in suffering (1:9).100 For the audience to find an identity as 3 " and " % of the martyrs involves being prepared to be killed like them for the sake of the word of God.101 While they cannot be part of the company of martyrs who have already been slaughtered, they are challenged to become part of those ‘about to be killed’. In this way they too, like the martyrs under the altar, will be identified with the Lamb. As his being slain is the obverse side of the coin of his victory, so the completion of the number of martyrs will result in their vindication and eternal life.102 99 Bauckham, Climax, pp. 55–6. 100 A strong relevance-based case

can be made for identifying the unmarked  3" of 1:1 (and elsewhere) with the whole of John’s audience (with Boring, Revelation, p. 66) rather than just the prophets, in line with 10:7; 11:18 (with Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 6; Mounce, Revelation, p. 65; D. Hill, New Testament Prophecy (Basingstoke: Marshall Morgan & Scott, 1979), p. 79; D. E. Aune, ‘The Prophetic Circle of John of Patmos and the Exegesis of Revelation 22:16’, JSNT 37 (1989), p. 110). See Pattemore, ‘The People of God’, p. 196, n. 104. 101 I take the % between the two groups as epexegetic, with Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 177; Mounce, Revelation, p. 160; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 411; and against H. Ulfgard, Feast and Future: Revelation 7:9–17 and the Feast of Tabernacles (ConBNT, 22; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1989), p. 56. 102 See also Caird, Revelation, p. 87: ‘[John] has already told them that only by the victory of the Cross has Christ won the right to open the scroll . . . It is not surprising then that the content of the scroll should include the story of continued martyrdom by which the final victory is to be won.’

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The response to the martyrs (presumably from God) is not a message for a particular group of believers who have already lost their lives, but a double-edged message for John’s living audience. It gives them assurance of God’s acceptance of the cause of the martyrs and his purpose to vindicate them. But it challenges them to be the martyr church themselves, to resist temptation to compromise their witness in order to gain comfort or earthly security. 4.7

The later significance of 6:9–11

Rev. 6:9–11 is a starting point for many themes to be developed in the remainder of the book, and motifs to be woven into the pattern of its imagery. Following the trajectory of significant lexical and semantic elements in these verses through the book reveals over forty brief passages (consisting of one to three verses) where two or more of the semantic components come together again. Some of these are incidental, but several are of considerable importance.103 They cover every one of the major sections of the text still to come, but the distribution is neither uniform nor random. The greatest number of verses with strong semantic links occurs in the description of the judgment of Babylon (17:1–19:10). It is the death (‘blood’) of the saints which is the primary cause of the judgments on Babylon, and in 17:1–19:10 the negative aspect of their vindication is accomplished. With the final judgment of the white throne in 20:11–15 the enemies of the people of God disappear from the scene completely. Thus, by contrast, there are very few overt semantic links from the prayer for vindication to the New Jerusalem vision. Yet, in a way, the whole vision is a climactic fulfilment of the positive side of the prayer for vindication, namely the restoration of Jerusalem. The people of God are no longer defined in terms of conflict with the world and the devil, but purely in terms of relationship to God. Except for chs. 7 and 11, which will be addressed in the next chapter, the connections between 6:9–11 and the seal and trumpet series are comparatively slight. The mention of the prayers of the saints at 8:3 is merely a reminder that all that takes place stands under their cry for justice and vindication. Even the bowl series is represented by only one passage (16:5–7), although this is an important one and anticipates the way in which the blood of the saints becomes the focal cause of the judgment on 103 The most important, most of which have at least three semantic components in common with 6:9–11, are 7:9–10, 13–14; 8:3, 13; 9:13; 11:7,18; 12:10–12; 13:7–8; 14:13; 16:5–7; 17:6; 18:20, 24; 19:1–2, 8; 20:3–4; 22:6–9. For more points of contact see Heil, ‘The Fifth Seal’.

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Babylon. The majority of the remaining loci for the themes which begin in the fifth seal are found in passages which have to do with the beasts or with Babylon. It is only at 11:7 that the enemies of the people of God are first clearly identified. Up to that point the plagues and punishments have been directed at humanity in general. But from the story of the two witnesses through the stories of the dragon and the two beasts, the conflict between saints on the one hand and their demonic and human opponents on the other is the key theme. This develops and increases the tension which begins in 6:9–11, in preparation for the resolution in 17:1–19:10 and beyond. From a different perspective, the passages listed above include, or at least make contact with, most of the text units in which the people of God are actors on centre stage.104 But in addition to the New Jerusalem passages, the male child (and later the other children) of the woman chased by the dragon (12:3–6, 13–17), the 144,000 virgin followers of the Lamb (14:1–3), and the large crowd of those who conquered the beast (15:2–4) do not have direct connections to the souls of the slaughtered under the altar. Yet the latter two passages are themselves closely connected, as part of the same story, with 13:7–8, which does occur on the list. Similarly, the two passages from chapter 12 bracket 12:10–12 and are clearly intended to be read with that passage. These two sequences (one in ch. 12 and one spanning chs. 13–15) represent two different but related story lines into which the motifs of 6:9–11 have been woven. The first is the story of the dragon, the woman, and her male child. The second is the story of the beasts and their followers, and the Lamb and his followers. The latter will be the subject of the next chapter, while the former will be touched on below in relation to 12:10–12. The death of God’s people as a result of their witness, and their cry for judgment and vindication, is clearly a major part of the design of John’s literary tapestry, with the threads originating at 6:9–11 crossing and recrossing in many ways, and at certain important points forming more clearly visible patterns. It is to the four most significant of these points that we now turn. 4.8

Four focal passages

Among the passages which re-echo the themes of Rev. 6:9–11, four stand out as of particular significance because of the volume of the echo. In each 104 This includes 7:9–17; 11:7–13; 12:1–17; 13:5–10; 14:1–5; 15:2–4; 16:7 (?); 19:1–8; 20:4–6.

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of 12:10–12; 16:5–7; 19:1–2; and 20:3–4 there are at least seven semantic components which occurred in 6:9–11.105 But only in the last, at 20:4, does John again report seeing the souls of the slain. In the other three the connections to the martyrs’ prayer occur in what John hears. Thus the initial and final passages form an inclusio of prospect and fulfilment. We can trace through these passages a story, or an interweaving of two stories, of the people of God, though not strictly in chronological order. First, 12:10–12 provides a retrospect, relating more explicitly the reason for and the result of the death of the martyrs. At 12:17, this story is integrated again with the story of John’s audience by reference to the dragon going off to make war on ‘the rest of [the woman’s] children, those who keep the commandments of God and hold the testimony of Jesus’. This merges almost imperceptibly with the story of the two beasts and those who refuse to follow or obey them. In 16:5–7, in the middle of the general judgments of the bowls, God is praised, because in these judgments he is answering the prayer of the martyrs, a connection implicit in the choice of vocabulary. After the description of the specific judgments on Babylon in chs. 17–18, 19:1–2 explicitly records praise to God for the vindication of the blood of his servants, forming a closure in one sense with the cry of 6:9–11. This whole passage (19:1–8) could easily lead straight to the vision of the New Jerusalem, but the visions seen in heaven (19:11–20:10) intervene, covering some of the same ground from a different perspective. Thus the reign of the martyrs described in 20:4 would appear to be prior, in ‘narrative time’, to the final judgment and hence to the song of praise in 19:1–2.106 Whatever reasons John may have had for this dislocation, one of the effects he achieves is that the final passage (20:3–4), which as a vision of souls so closely echoes the 105 Extracts from these texts, listing only the words or phrases which echo 6:9–11, are as follows:

12:10–12: . . . /  !" . . . ". @. . . .  ? . . .  '  "  1* %* . . . <=  . . . ;= !  . . .   1 . . . "%    16:5–7: . . . % * . . .  * . . . ( * . . . ? Q%/ . . .  %  . . . "   %  2 % * 19:1–2: . . . /  !" . . . "   %  2 % * . . . R  . . . #%  ? .  3"/ 20:3–4: . . . #!  . . .   =  . . .   . . . % # : * . . . '* <='* .  " /  '   % 4 9 )   '  "   )  ). (Note here that although two of the correspondences are in verses 3, I will primarily focus on 20:4.) 106 By ‘narrative time’ here I mean a linear sequence of events within the world envisaged by John’s visionary narrative, whose relationship to the ‘real time’ of John’s audience is a separate issue.

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first one, also integrates the stories of the souls whom John saw in 6:9–11 with that of the conquerors of the beast, who are implicitly part of John’s audience. The pattern of these text units is thus as follows: Literary sequence: Narrative sequence:

6:9–11 12:10–12 16:5–7 19:1–2 20:3–4 12:10–12 6:9–11 16:5–7 20:3–4 19:1–2

Rev. 12:10–12 While the souls under the altar cried for vindication against the ‘earthdwellers’, ch. 12 has introduced a power behind all human opposition to the people of God.107 Much has been written on the imagery of this chapter, helpfully detailing elements in the cognitive environment.108 Bauckham’s treatment, though brief, sensitively handles traditional allusions in a manner consonant with the principle of relevance. In his view John has creatively used elements from at least four traditions, reworking them into a single story. These traditions are the fall narrative in Genesis 3, Canaanite mythology, local Asian serpent cults, and the myth of Apollo and Python. The Canaanite mythology is mediated through OT texts, which in RT terminology is the most accessible cognitive environment. Yet equally important are local cognitive environments, and here Bauckham is careful to note those that were most likely available at the time of John’s writing and in the area of interest.109 The power of John’s narrative lies in the way OT themes are interwoven with these local contexts. Similar interweavings of varied traditions may also be evoked by the images of the woman and her male child. But our interest at this point is not so much in the origins of the traditional images used in the vision narrative as in the interaction between myth and history and the ways in which the vision is integrated with the audience’s experience. Already within the first part of the story, the audience are presented with a challenge of 107

This develops the anticipatory and tantalizingly passing reference to the ‘beast’ in

11:7. 108 See Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, pp. 185–98; J. Day, God’s Conflict with the Dragon and the Sea: Echoes of a Canaanite Myth in the Old Testament (UCOP, 35; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985); Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 667–74. H. Gunkel, Sch¨opfung und Chaos in Urzeit und Endzeit: Eine religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung u¨ ber Gen 1 und Ap Joh 12 (G¨ottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1895); H. Gunkel, Zum religionsgeschichtlichen Verst¨andnis des Neuen Testaments (FRLANT; G¨ottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1903), pp. 54–8; P. Prigent, Apocalypse 12: histoire de l’ex´eg`ese (BGBE, 2; T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1959); Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, pp. 72–3; Court, Myth and History, pp. 106–21; U. Vanni, ‘La figura della donna nell’Apocalisse’, SM 40 (1991), pp. 57–94. 109 Bauckham, Climax, p. 198.

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identification. The male child is described (verse 5) as N* "" % 

! ' ( # +!C/,  H-. This strong echo of Ps. 2:9 (LXX) immediately recalls the promise to the conquerors in Thyatira in 2:26–8. Thus, if the outline of the story of the woman and the dragon evoked the Apollo legend for the audience, it is also likely that this description of the male child will have prompted them not only to reinterpret the Apollo mythology in terms of Jewish messianic expectation, but also to conclude that it has something to do with them and their own mundane struggle.110 In the message to Thyatira, the prospect of ruling was contingent on Christ’s rule and on their ‘conquering’ through faithful keeping of Christ’s works ‘to the end’. This suggests modelling their lives on his to the point of death. If these connotations are carried over into this story, the audience will be motivated not only to follow the story of the male child with interest (since his rule is the precondition for theirs), but to consider how they themselves participate in it. This is then reinforced in the interlude 12:10–12. Breaking into an otherwise continuous mythological narrative (12:1–9, 13–17) is the voice of a ‘reliable interpreter’.111 It is impossible to identify the voice with certainty among the many loud voices in heaven.112 On relevance grounds, by immediate precedent and by content of what is said, the closest link is with 11:15, but that is also anonymous. Because the voice is most probably human, and again by attention to content, there is also a strong connection to the multitude, the whole company of those who have suffered and are now glorified in heaven in 7:10.113 It is much 110 See R. D. Aus, ‘The Relevance of Isaiah 66, 7 to Revelation 12 and 2 Thessalonians 1’, ZNW 67 (1976), pp. 252–67, and Beale, Revelation, pp. 640–2, for a treatment of further messianic connotations brought across from Isaiah 66. See also Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 188; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 200, for the identification of the mythical deliverer with the Messiah. 111 To describe verses 10–12 as ‘redactional’ (Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 702, following Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 328) is not helpful. The whole chapter is in fact redactional (for which see Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, pp. 101–45). It is precisely John’s purpose in thus communicating with his audience that interests us. 112 See n. 66, p. 82 above. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 561, shows that an unidentified voice from heaven in the OT is usually God’s, but that is clearly not the case here. K.-P. J¨orns, Das hymnische Evangelium: Untersuchungen zu Aufbau, Funktion und Herkunft der hymnischen St¨ucke in der Johannesoffenbarung (SNT, 5; Gerd Mohn: G¨utersloher Verlagshaus, 1971), p. 110, notes that the voice may be that of a group rather than of an individual. 113 See Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 192–3, who eliminates an angelic source by appeal to 19:10 and 22:9 (not a compelling reason from a relevance perspective, since these verses are not yet heard). Many commentators allow either a human company in heaven, an angelic crowd, or one or more of the twenty-four elders. See, for example, Beale, Revelation, p. 657; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 202–3; Mounce, Revelation, p. 242.

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less likely that the audience would identify the voice more closely as coming from the martyrs under the altar.114 Where the story of the dragon has mythologized history, the voice of the interpreter rehistoricizes the mythology. Gone are the dragon, the woman, and her child, and instead the central focus is on the victory through sacrifice of Christ and his followers. The defeat of the dragon represents, on the heavenly stage, the victory of Christ on the cross, particularly in view of the announcement of the salvation, power, and kingdom of God and the authority of the Messiah in 12:10.115 But the interpreter goes on to attribute victory to the ‘brethren’, yet in such a way as to make it directly dependent on Christ’s victory. The first mode of their victory over Satan, the accuser, is the ‘blood of the Lamb’.116 Once again the historical death of Christ forms the centre point of the story. This negates all power discourse and shatters the expectations created by the use of pagan mythological allusions. Victory is through death. Not a cosmic super-hero but a slain Lamb is the key player. But John’s purpose here is not merely an interpretation of history or a polemic against pagan mythology. We have assumed that it is a pragmatic purpose, to motivate his audience. The second mode of victory of the ‘brethren’ is thus their own death-defying witness, which closely follows the paradigm of the Lamb.117 The strong verbal parallels already noted between these verses and 6:9–11, together with the sequence of aorist verbs (#C"7 . . . #% . . . : S! ) and the close link with the death of Christ, create a cognitive environment within which the most natural implication is that these conquerors are essentially the same as the souls under the altar.118 They are those who have already borne witness at 114 As do Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 327–38; Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 103; and, tentatively, Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 701. 115 See Caird, Revelation, pp. 153–4; Beale, Revelation, p. 663; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 193; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 203; Sweet, Revelation, p. 199; Harrington, Revelation, p. 133. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 700, privileging the sources over the finished text, allows only that this connection is ‘based primarily on the interpretive overlay found in v. 11’. His further problems with the timing (that this follows a similar statement in 11:15) result from his view that the whole Apocalypse as it stands portrays a consecutive time sequence. 116 ‘Wheels within wheels’ describes not only what Ezekiel saw but, metaphorically, the nature of apocalyptic imagery. Here is a mythical visionary element, the slaughtered Lamb from ch. 5, within a historical interpretation of a different mythical vision. 117 Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 194, argues for the close identification of the martyrs’ death with that of Christ, ‘une r´eelle communion au sang vers´e’. 118 Heil, ‘Fifth Seal’, p. 235, points out the many parallels between 6:9–11 and 12:10–12 but does not develop their significance.

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the cost of their lives.119 Witness is again closely connected with sacrifice, though not yet in Revelation semantically equated.120 The phrase used here,  '  "  1* %* :., most readily suggests their own verbal testimony to Jesus, though the evocation of other % expressions (1:2, 9) and the description of Jesus as !* (1:5; 3:14) no doubt bring a weaker implication that their witness is both derived from and modelled on his.121 The identification of the conquerors as those who are already martyred is further supported by the way in which the mythical story resumes. The heavenly voice has given an interpretation of the key moments in the battle, but the story is not over yet. The dragon continues to pursue the woman (12:13–16), and when frustrated he turns on the rest of her children (verse 17).122 This time it is John who with his own voice interprets the terminology of the myth in terms of the life and witness of his audience.123 Here, rather than in verse 11, is where they find themselves.124 There are 119 The conquerors are identified by some as martyrs yet to die in the coming tribulation (Caird, Revelation, p. 156; Michaels, Revelation, p. 152; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 702) or more generally as believers still alive (Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 327; Roloff, Revelation, p. 149). But this implies a temporary shift in time frame for this verse which is unsignalled and requires too much processing effort. Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 291, includes the martyrs of 6:9–11, those who are yet to suffer, and those in the audience who are willing to suffer. Similarly Beale, Revelation, p. 663, includes all believers past, present, and future! Certainly neither the kingdom nor Satan’s accusations (12:10) can be limited to martyrs. To suggest that the primary reference of 12:11 is to Christian martyrs does not accord special status to martyrs, but it does identify the conquering church as the martyr church. Further support for this view will be found in the way the story of the dragon continues after the interval. 120 See Vassiliadis, ‘The Translation of Martyria Iesou’, and the discussion in n. 48, pp. 78–9 above. 121 See Beale, Revelation, p. 664; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 194; A. Satake, Die Gemeindeordnung in der Johannesapokalypse (WMANT, 21; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1966), pp. 110–11. Against this is Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 103. 122 Specifically,   1" 1 "  ' . "

.  )   * :1* .  3/ '* # "'*  )  )  #=/   % 4 9 ). 123 Here the mythological elements include not only the dragon but the reference to the woman’s  , which, in the close context of 12:9, strongly evokes Gen. 3:19. The conflict depicted here is seen in the light of that promise. 124 So Michaels, Revelation, p. 152. Whether the distinction between the woman and the rest of her children is between the church as a whole and individual Christians (Roloff, Revelation, p. 152; Caird, Revelation, p. 159–60; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 708) or between the spiritual/heavenly church and the temporal/earthly church (Sweet, Revelation, p. 204; Beale, Revelation, p. 676) is irrelevant to John’s audience. In either case they are subject to the attacks of the dragon. The suggestion (Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 332, and tentatively Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 708) that the ‘other children’ highlights Gentile as opposed to Jewish believers is slightly more to the point. Yet John does not elsewhere distinguish Jewish from Gentile believers. Almost certainly the audience find themselves and their story integrated here.

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those who have conquered by the word of their testimony, but equally there are those who, because of their obedience to God and adherence to the testimony of Jesus, must still face the wrath of the dragon. Once again John presents the challenge to his audience to identify with the conquering saints in heaven and with the Lamb by themselves remaining faithful in obedience and witness in the face of persecution by the forces of evil.125 What this challenge will involve will be spelled out in more detail through the story of the two beasts with 12:18 forming the linch pin between them. This story will be traced in the next chapter. What is clear here is that ethical obedience to God and witness to Jesus are both inescapably tied up with suffering. One further aspect of this passage, at which I have already hinted, needs to be emphasized. It is often said that apocalyptic literature sets the suffering of the righteous in the context of a cosmic conflict in order to reassure the sufferers that despite their apparent powerlessness and defeat, powers greater than themselves will assure the ultimate victory of the right.126 John certainly describes such a cosmic conflict, but his primary interpretive direction is the opposite one, in which the significance of the visionary mythology is explained by what takes place on earth in the death of Christ and the life, witness, and death of his followers. History and myth interpenetrate each other.127 And the particular story which is at the centre of the universal struggle is one in which the audience of Asian Christians must play a part. The martyrs, then, are conquerors whose victory is both dependent on and modelled on the victory through suffering and death of the Lamb. Given all that has been promised to those among the audience who will conquer (2:7, 11, 17, 26–8; 3:5, 12, 21) and the implication that they are 125 Here Heil, ‘Fifth Seal’, p. 236, makes the point well: ‘That these brothers have conquered the dragon by the blood of the Lamb encourages the brothers in the audience . . . to be those who keep the commandments of God and hold to the “testimony” . . . of Jesus as they battle against the dragon on earth.’ See also S. L. Homcy, ‘ “To him who Overcomes”: A Fresh Look at what “Victory” Means for the Believer according to the Book of Revelation’, JETS 38 (1995), p. 201. 126 See, for example, Yarbro Collins’ definition of the purpose of the genre as ‘intended to interpret present, earthly circumstances in light of the supernatural world and of the future, and to influence both the understanding and the behaviour of the audience by means of divine authority’ (‘Introduction’, p. 7). 127 So Boring, Revelation, p. 159, ‘Although John uses mythical language, there is a sense in which John has reversed the order of myth as understood in the pagan world. . . . The incarnation, crucifixion/resurrection, and the testimony of Christians happens on earth, and that results in the defeat of the evil powers in the transcendent world.’ See also Roloff, Revelation, p. 149; Harrington, Revelation, p. 133; Caird, Revelation, p. 154.

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soon to experience the wrath of the dragon, there is here a strong appeal to identification with the martyr church.128

Rev. 16:5–7 The three numbered septets within Rev. 4:1–22:9 show a progressive intensification of imagery, extending even to the symbols used to enumerate them. While seals were little more than a contextually suggested device operating within the vision narrative itself, trumpets have connotations of theophany, war, and divine judgment.129 The bowls also bring with them connotations from the OT.130 But John gives them a triple interpretive overlay. They are connected with the plagues with which God judged Egypt (15:1, 6; 16:20; 21:9). They are described as ‘full of the wrath of God’ (15:7, cf. 15:1; 16:1). And they are loaded with eschatological import when explained in 15:1 as "'* T ' '* #=!*  # :* #" F *  )  ). But equally important, and far more than any of the OT passages which might have been evoked, is the strong echo back to the original scene of heavenly worship in ch. 5, where golden bowls were filled with something else. The verbal matching is so close as to make coincidence highly unlikely. Compare: 5:8  !"* =H*  3*  !/, A G  2

 = . Q%/ 15:7 T '  !"* =H*  3*  )  )  )  )  ) &. * . . . 128 See Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, pp. 149–50, ‘the author of Revelation views all believers to be potential martyrs. He does not, however, expect the entire church to suffer martyrdom . . . John . . . accentuates the martyr and the martyr’s rewards in order to prepare all believers to face the coming ordeal, even if it means death for them.’ 129 For theophany see Exod. 19:13–20; 20:18; Heb. 12:19; for war, Josh. 6; Judg. 3:27; 7:16–20; Neh. 4:18–20; for divine judgment Joel 2:1; Zeph. 1:14–16; Isa. 27:13. Note also eschatological implications in Matt. 24:31; 1 Cor. 15:52; 1 Thess. 4:16. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 510, mentions ten different connotations. See especially Caird, Revelation, pp. 107–11; and Beale, Revelation, pp. 468–72. 130  !" ocurrs in the LXX as a translation of qr;z“m,ê one of the vessels used in connection with the altar: Exod. 27:3; 38:23; Num. 4:14; 1 Kings 7:26, 31,36; 2 Kings 12:14; 25:14– 15; 1 Chron. 28:17; 2 Chron. 4:8, 21; Neh. 7:70; Zech. 14:20; Jer. 52:18; 1 Esdr. 2:10; 1 Macc. 1:22 (all LXX references – MT may differ). It is used metaphorically, but still in close association with  7 , in Zech. 9:15, in a passage about the coming of Israel’s king to inaugurate a messianic reign of peace, a context for which Rev. 16:6 is a reverse image. See Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 879. Beale, Revelation, p. 806, finds their background in Isa. 51:17, 22–3. But 7  (as in LXX Isa. 51) and  !" are distinct (even if related) symbols in Revelation.

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It seems very likely that John is encouraging his audience to see the judgments of God as precisely the answer to the prayers of the saints, pictured in 5:8 and articulated in 6:10.131 It is in this context that we meet the present passage, which has so many semantic links to 6:9–11 and functions as a progress report.132 God is in the process of answering the prayer of the martyrs for judgment and vindication, and here his programme receives a double affirmation. The immediate occasion is the turning of fresh water sources to blood, recalling the first plague in Egypt, Exod. 7:14–24.133 The angel of the waters responds that such judgment is just and appropriate because of the shedding of the blood of saints and prophets. Any distinction implied between the saints in general and prophets is scarcely relevant, as the primary reference is to those in both groups who have been killed.134 Here it is not the dragon, or either of the beasts, but the people who followed them who are held responsible for the death of God’s people. The first bowl was directed against the beast’s followers (16:2), and though the succeeding bowls have no such specific target, it can be assumed from the recalcitrance of those involved (16:9, 11, 21) that they are fixed in their rebellion towards God.135 In ch. 13 the beasts oppressed the people of God (who, in a power reversal, are described as those who conquered the beast, 15:2). But, just as in 12:10– 12, the real locus of the actions on the mythical plane is in the experience of ordinary human beings. In fact there is a tantalizingly symmetrical 131 So Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery, p. 100, n. 184. Exodus imagery, contextually evoked in the introduction to the bowl sequence (15:3), reinforces this association. Exod. 3:7, 9 (LXX) records God’s response to the  of his people; cf. ( of the martyrs in Rev. 6:10. See J. S. Casey, ‘Exodus Typology in the Book of Revelation’ (Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, KY:. 1981), pp. 189–94. God’s covenantal faithfulness (Exod. 2:24) is also a motive for his action in the Zechariah passage (Zech. 9:11), though it would require considerable processing effort for the audience to make this connection on first hearing the text. Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 334, and Beale, Revelation, p. 806, both make the connection from 15:7 back to 5:8 and 6:9–11. 132 In terms of structure, it is 16:5–7 which divides the seven bowls into 3 + 4 (Michaels, Revelation, pp. 28–9, 184). Is it coincidence that 6:9–11 occurs just at the point where the seals are divided into 4 + 3? 133 For the connection between the bowls, the trumpets, and the plagues of Egypt see Charles, Revelation, vol. II, pp. 42–3; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 238–41; Roloff, Revelation, pp. 103–5, 182–90; Boring, Revelation, pp. 172–3; Caird, Revelation, pp. 196– 203; Beale, Revelation, pp. 808–12; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 499–506, 808–84. 134 For a distinction see Michaels, Revelation, pp. 184–5. Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 339 and Beale, Revelation, p. 818 (following Satake, Gemeindeordnung, p. 49), refer the combined expression to the entire Christian community. But this misses the point of the anarthrous reference, ? Q%/   ., which implies that not all the saints and prophets have been killed. It is not necessary to dilute the force of the ?. 135 There may be a paraenetic function to the repeated statement that the people did not repent (16:9, 10), in view of the frequency of the calls to repent in the messages to the churches (2:5, 16, 22; 3:3, 19).

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structure here. While the people of God conquer the dragon and the beast (12:10–12; 15:2), it is God himself who judges the people who follow the beast.136 Thus the attention of the audience is frequently being turned away from the visionary symbols and back to mundane reality. It is within human society that the people of God suffer and die, and it is human society that must expect the judgment of God in answer to the martyrs’ cry for vindication of their blood against ‘the inhabitants of the earth’.137 The angel’s affirmation is followed by a briefer statement from the altar itself.138 While there is an initial inclination to connect this to the ‘voice from the four horns of the golden altar’ in 9:13, this is quickly dismissed by the contents of the speech. The previous voice gave commands to angels, but this one gives honour to God in terms almost identical to the address of the conquerors of the beast in 15:3. It seems most likely, then, that this is again the voice of the martyrs under the altar, acknowledging the justice and truth of God in his judgments.139 There is no direct challenge to the audience here, but there is an assurance that God, whose relationship with Israel was defined by saving her out of Egypt, is not only just and fair but also powerful and committed to answering the prayer of the martyrs for vindication. Rev. 19:1–2 The third focal passage is part of the celebration of the fall of Babylon, which is itself an expansion of the seventh bowl. While the first six bowl 136 Later there is also divine judgment on the dragon and the beast themselves. For different attempts at structural analyses of the main participants in Revelation see Gager, Kingdom and Community, p. 52; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘Composition’, pp. 363–6. 137 Yarbro Collins, Apocalypse, p. 112; Beale, Revelation, p. 818; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 339; Roloff, Revelation, p. 189; Heil, ‘Fifth Seal’, p. 237, are among those who make the connection between 16:5–7 and 6:9–11. 138 G. Mussies, The Morphology of Koine Greek as Used in the Apocalypse of St. John: A Study in Bilingualism (NovTSup, 27; Leiden: Brill, 1971), p. 95, distinguishes between   followed by the genitive (as here), used of animate beings (with an exception at 5:13), and by the accusative, used of inanimate things. This groups the altar with animate beings. So also Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. cxl. 139 This would appear to be the view of the editors of two tenth-century manuscripts of Revelation, 046 and 2329, who insert # before  )  % . So Harrington, Revelation, p. 164. Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 242, suggests that the voice belongs to the angel from the altar (14:18). Roloff, Revelation, p. 189, and Mounce, Revelation, p. 296, propose a personification of the altar, as spokesman for the martyrs. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 888, rightly rejects the necessity for personification and allows that the voice may be from one of the martyrs of 6:9–11. But a singular voice might easily come from all, as at 6:9–10. See also Beale, Revelation, p. 820, and Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 339, for the possibility of the voice coming from the martyrs.

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judgments appear to be directed generally at humanity in opposition to God, the seventh has both a broad and a narrow focus. It is final ( , 16:17), unprecedentedly devastating (16:8), and initiates catastrophe on a cosmic scale (16:20–1).140 Yet at the centre of the description is God’s remembrance of Babylon, and the whole cosmic disaster is interpreted as God’s specially prepared wrath-potion for her (16:19). This is a second ironic echo of the anticipatory celebration of the fall of Babylon in 14:8.141 God’s wrath is one of the motifs which dominates the whole latter part of the book. It is concentrated by the imagery of the bowls, which gives it the sense of being the answer to the prayers of the saints. This is now confirmed as Babylon, the ancient enemy of the people of God and destroyer of Jerusalem, becomes the focus of God’s just judgment (cf. 18:6). The two angelic journeys (17:1–19:10 and 21:9–22:9) have, at least on the surface, lexical and semantic links to the bowl sequence.142 These links can now be seen to be thematic as well. The cry of the martyrs to God for vindication and judgment is ultimately answered both negatively and positively. Negatively God’s anger exacts judgment from Babylon for her treatment of his people, and positively God establishes a New Jerusalem, symbolic of his permanent dwelling with redeemed humanity.143 It is not incidental that the angelic guide in both episodes is one of the plague-bearing angels. The key to the thematic and structural integrity of both visions with the bowl series lies back in the cry of the 140 Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 903, following Lambrecht, ‘Structuration’, p. 94, n. 45, points to the perfect tense of  , in contrast to the preceding aorists, as evidence that this is the climactic end of the plague series. See also Beale, Revelation, pp. 841–6, who uses the allusion to Dan. 12:1 to point in the same direction. However, Caird, Revelation, p. 209, considers that John uses eschatological imagery to describe the fall of Rome, which is the limit of his horizon. Bauckham, Climax, pp. 206–7, notes historical and geographical precedents which made the imagery particularly relevant to John’s audience. 141 Already at 14:10 it was predicted of the worshippers of the beast that they would be made to drink the wine of God’s wrath. The word play on * and  * is complex and reciprocal. * is predicated of the dragon at 12:12, of Babylon at 14:8; 18:3, and elsewhere of God, 14:10, 19; 15:1, 7; 16:1, 19; 19:15.  * is literal (within the vision) at 6:6; 18:13, metaphorical of God’s wrath at 14:10; 16:19; 19:15, and metaphorical of Babylon’s fornication at 14:8; 17:2; 18:3. Further links are created by the connection of

% (of Babylon at 14:8; 17:2, 4; 18:3; 19:2) to the behaviour of ‘Jezebel’ at Thyatira (2:20–3) and by the description of Babylon, whose wine of fornication has made the nations drunk (3/, 17:3) as herself being drunk with the blood of the saints and witnesses (17:6). 142 See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 157–66. 143 The link between the ‘Babylon Appendix’ (Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, p. 32; Apocalypse, p. 118) and the bowl series has been noted by Beale, Revelation, pp. 847–8; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 903; and others. Beale, Revelation, p. 848, and Heil, ‘Fifth Seal’, pp. 237–8, explicitly mark the destruction of Babylon as part of the answer to the martyrs’ cry. But the relationship of the ‘Jerusalem Appendix’ to the bowls is usually treated as superficial (Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 928) or as an appendix to the visions of 19:11–21:8 (Yarbro Collins, Combat Myth, p. 32).

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martyrs for vindication in 6:9–11. The angels with the bowls are agents of God’s ultimate answer to the cry of the martyrs. In both pictures of Babylon (chs. 17 and 18), she is held responsible for the violent death of God’s people. The whore is drunk with their blood (17:6) and the great city is stained with it (18:24). In the latter case, the destruction of Babylon is clearly an answer to the martyrs’ cry.144 The request of the martyrs was specifically for vindication of their blood (6:10), and the great multitude in 19:1–2 celebrates God’s judgment on the whore and his vindication of his servants’ blood as two sides of the one coin. But while the vocabulary is so close as to relate the two passages (6:10 and 19:1–2) as request and fulfilment, there is a significant change.145 Where the martyrs under the altar had asked for vindication # .   3/ #  1* 1*, the heavenly crowd celebrates a vindication # = * :1*, the feminine pronoun referring to @  @ !".146 This mismatch between request and fulfilment brings into focus a tension that has been present throughout the Babylon passage.147 What is the relationship between the great whore and those whom she influences? The inhabitants of the earth are drunk with the wine of her fornication (17:2, similarly the nations in 18:3) and are amazed by the beast on which she rides (17:8). The nations are under her (17:15), deceived by her sorcery (18:23). Merchants have grown rich through her (18:3, 15, 23). Kings of the earth have committed fornication with her (17:2; 18:3), are ruled by her (17:18), join the beast in turning to destroy her (17:16), and yet mourn her passing (18:9–10).148 There is no solidarity in opposition to God, yet there is a near identification between the whole (Babylon, perhaps ungodly society) and its parts (the earth-dwellers, members of 144 Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 95, is surely correct to suggest that 18:24 is ‘the theological key to the whole Babylon series of judgments’. Aune’s view (Revelation 17–22, p. 1011) that the martyr motif in 18:24, 17:6, and 16:6 is redactional does not diminish its importance in the text as we have it. 145 For the similarities see n. 105, p. 92 above, and Beale, Revelation, p. 928. 146 A clear allusion to the OT Jezebel (specifically 2 Kings 9:7). See Beale, Revelation, p. 928; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1025. The motif of % has already connected Babylon, the whore, to ‘Jezebel’ in Thyatira. We shall trace these relationships in some more detail in the next chapter. 147 Each of the references to the martyrs at 17:6, 18:20, and 18:24 has indicted Babylon rather than the earth-dwellers. Note in particular the expression at 18:20, (  F *  % 0. # :1*. 148 Possibly the kings who turn on the whore portray the Parthians, while those who mourn Babylon’s destruction are client kings (or local rulers) within the Roman Empire (Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 266; Mounce, Revelation, p. 328; Sweet, Revelation, p. 262). Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 957, attributes the tension between 17:16 and 18:8–9 to their supposed different sources. Beale, Revelation, pp. 883–4, 906, allows the possibility that the two groups might overlap.

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the society), just as there will be identity yet difference between New Jerusalem and its inhabitants. The judgment of Babylon is the judgment of the earth-dwellers. The system she represents, which in many ways is greater than the individual parts, is self-destructive, yet stands under God’s judgment.149 Vindication against the people involves vindication against the system. Returning to consider the people of God, we note that they are not to be seen anywhere in this whole text sequence (17:1–19:10). Yet they are not far off stage. Not only is the death of the martyrs the precipitating cause of Babylon’s judgment, but the people of God are directly addressed, urged to separate themselves from her, and both to participate in and to rejoice over her fall.150 And the voice John hears celebrating God’s salvation is ‘the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven’ (19:1), unambiguously recalling the only previous great multitude, which also celebrates the salvation of God in 7:9.151 The white robes of that crowd link them with the martyrs under the altar, and they are explained as those who have ‘come out of the great ordeal’ (7:14).152 These are God’s people who have suffered for their faith, though not exclusively martyrs. It is this multitude in heaven which responds to the call to ‘Rejoice over her’ (18:20). The voice from the throne in 19:5 then provides the challenge to the audience to identify with the saints in heaven and join in praise and worship of God.153 The earlier imperatives in ch. 18 cause more difficulty. While ch. 17 painted a typically bizarre static image, ch. 18 is much more earthy, with its graphic pictures of a devastated city, and almost wistful mourning over 149 Even the kings who destroy the whore are agents of God’s judgment (17:17). For the self-destructive nature of evil see further Caird, Revelation, p. 221; Harrington, Revelation, p. 175; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 260; Mounce, Revelation; p. 319. For the role of the enemies of the people of God see Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’; Yarbro Collins, ‘Persecution and Vengeance’. 150 5" 4 F "*   # :1* (18.4) . . .    :1,  :1  / . . . 

"D . . .  (18:6–7) . . . 5:%  # 4 :1,  :6 (18:20). 151 U=" * occurs as a simple plural in 17:15, where its presence in the list of those ruled by the whore is a dramatic counterpoint to 7:9. For the identification of the multitudes in 19:1 and 7:9 see Harrington, Revelation, p. 185; Roloff, Revelation, p. 210; Mounce, Revelation, p. 337; Caird, Revelation, p. 232; Boring, Revelation, p. 192. 152 For a detailed discussion of Rev. 7:9–17, see ch. 5, pp. 140–59 below. 153 So Boring, Revelation, p. 192. While some distinguish between the choirs of 19:1 and 19:6, as respectively heavenly and earthly (Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 271; Roloff, Revelation, pp. 210–11; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 101–2), relevance considerations support an identification of the two ‘great multitudes’ in such close proximity, both singing ‘Hallelujah’. See Beale, Revelation, p. 931. Living saints on earth are not a part of this vision at all. Yet the challenge to the audience outside the vision, to join in anticipatory praise, remains valid.

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the lost glories of culture and commerce.154 The command to ‘Come out of her’ (18:4) again highlights the distinction between the people of God still alive on earth and those who have already lost their lives to the ungodly system. Though the command recalls Jer. 50:8; 51:6, what is required here is probably an ethical rather than a physical separation.155 The heavenly voice penetrates the veil of vision and challenges the audience to refuse to accommodate to the mores of godless society. Separation from the evil of the world system, refusal to participate in its sins, is the condition for escaping its fate.156 But this is not necessarily a call to conventicle existence. The importance to the audience of faithful witness to the point of death, which the theme of the martyr saints emphasizes, requires that they remain in the world.157 Exactly how God’s people are to participate in Babylon’s destruction (18:6) is unclear.158 Even in the previous chapter it was the Lamb who conquered the beast, with only a hint that his ‘called and chosen and faithful’ companions participate in the conquest (17:14). But even if addressed to God’s people, this is no unambiguous call for Christian militancy which would be at odds with the mode of victory of the people of God in 12:11, that of self-sacrificial witness.159 154 See Caird, Revelation, p. 227; Yarbro Collins, Apocalypse, p. 129. Bauckham, Climax, p. 371, disagrees that there is pathos here. 155 See Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 370–1; Beale, Revelation, pp. 897–8; Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 990–1, for the OT background. Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 265, and Mounce, Revelation, p. 324, allow a possible literal dimension. Caird, Revelation, pp. 223–4, suggests that the command is directed not to Christians but to those still part of the evil system who might choose to show themselves to be God’s people. 156 This recalls the messages to Pergamum (2:12–17) and Thyatira (2:18–29). See Yarbro Collins, Apocalypse, p. 127 (though it is unclear why she also includes Ephesus). For the moral/ethical nature of the separation see further Roloff, Revelation, p. 205; Sweet, Revelation, p. 268; Boring, Revelation, pp. 188–9; Michaels, Revelation, p. 203. 157 So Beale, Revelation, p. 898 (and Sweet, Revelation, p. 266), against A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Revelation 18: Taunt Song or Dirge?’, in Lambrecht (ed.), L’Apocalypse johannique, p. 202. The ethical force of the passage is well caught by A. D. Callahan, ‘Apocalypse and Political Economy: Some Notes on Revelation 18’, HBT 21 (1999), p. 65: ‘John’s visionary critique insists that we cannot separate political and moral economies, that political economy and moral economy are intimately bound together, that justice is the tie that binds the public square to our private lives.’ 158 Relevance considerations support the address as being to God’s people, as no other addressees are in view in the scene. Many commentators find the clash with the ethical framework, of both Revelation and rest of the NT, so severe that they conclude that the imperative is addressed not to God’s people but to other agents of divine judgment (Harrington, Revelation, p. 177; Bauckham, Climax, p. 341; Roloff, Revelation, p. 205; Mounce, Revelation, p. 325; Caird, Revelation, pp. 223–34). Sweet, Revelation, pp. 268–9, considers the command rhetorical. The case for God’s people as addressees is put by S. M. Elliott, ‘Who is Addressed in Revelation 18:6?–7’, BR 40 (1995), pp. 98–113. Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 993–94, after discussing four options, agrees. 159 Thus Michaels, Revelation, p. 204, agrees that the commands are directed to the people of God, but suggests that they are rhetorical in the sense that they represent what

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Three final points must be made regarding the people of God in this segment. First, the differentiation which we noted in 16:6 (‘saints and prophets’) is further elaborated. Thus in 17:6 we have ‘the saints . . . and the witnesses to Jesus’, in 18:20 ‘saints and apostles and prophets’, and in 18:24 ‘prophets . . . and saints’ again, this time clearly linked back to the souls under the altar by the addition of ‘all who have been slaughtered on the earth’. Over against this is the description of all the Lamb’s followers as ‘called and chosen and faithful’ (17:14), and the composite references to ‘my people’ (18:4) and ‘his servants’ (19:2, 5). While the distinction between the community and its leaders is real, it should not be overemphasized as it plays little role at this point. There is no difference in either what has happened to them or what is expected of them.160 Secondly, the heavenly celebration of 19:1–2 leads on to anticipation of the marriage of the Lamb and the introduction of his bride, where a link is made to the white garments given to the souls under the altar (19:8, cf. 6:11; 7:9), and further back to the messages to Sardis (3:4–5) and Laodicea (3:18). In this context a connection is established between the heavenly picture (the bride in her bridal linen) and the mundane reality of the daily life of the people of God (‘the righteous deeds of the saints’). John continually brings his audience back from sublime visions to responsibilities which face them in their daily lives, which, he implies, have cosmic consequences. They are challenged not only to join the heavenly throng in worship but also to reflect their status in their behaviour.161 Finally, in the interaction between John and the angel (19:9–10), the audience are reminded that they are fellow servants and brothers of the heavenly throng to the extent that they hold the testimony of Jesus, remaining faithful to his testimony and echoing it in their own witness. The celebration of the fall of Babylon (whether interpreted directly as Rome, or in the wider sense of organized godless society) is a celebration God will do to Babylon. ‘The paradox here is that the saints are able to participate in the judgment against Rome precisely by not taking up the sword against her. Like the slain Lamb (5:6), they are victors only because, and only to the extent that, they are victims.’ This idea will be explored further in Chapter. 5 below. 160 The reference with the greatest grammatical separation between two groups (17:6) is also the one where a distinction is hardest to find. Though !* may be moving towards its later meaning of martyr (Harrington, Revelation, p. 172; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 937; RSV), it cannot yet be so specialized, since the saints have also lost their lives. Despite the grammatical distance it is best to see one group here (Mounce, Revelation, p. 311; Beale, Revelation, p. 860; Satake, Gemeindeordnung, pp. 116–17). 161 See the detailed discussion in Beale, Revelation, pp. 934–44; J.-P. Ruiz, ‘The Politics of Praise: A Reading of Revelation 19:1–10’, in SBL Seminar Papers 1997 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), p. 392, and Chapter. 6 below.

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of the vindication of the martyr people of God, the fulfilment of their prayer in 6:10. In narrative (though not literary) sequence it is the final scene to echo the fifth seal, and it links directly to the marriage of the Lamb and the New Jerusalem. In keeping with the instruction to the martyrs in 6:11, they themselves have not played an active role in the destruction of Babylon, which is the work of God through his sovereignty over historical forces. The challenge presented to the living audience is to identify with the martyr church by the quality of their lives, by refusing to compromise with godless society, by joining in praise of God, and by maintaining their testimony to Jesus. Rev. 20:4–6 John’s final direct vision of the martyr people of God comes in the series of visions which intervene between the visions of Babylon and of the New Jerusalem. This series forms a ‘little apocalypse’, beginning with a vision of heaven opened (19:11, cf. 4:1) and a theophanic vision of Christ (19:11– 16, cf. 1:12–20) and ending with a vision of the new heaven and new earth, and the ultimate state of God’s dwelling with humanity (21:1–8, cf. 21:9– 22:9). The first two scenes involve struggle between the forces of good and evil; the third pictures resolution and the fourth the absence of struggle.162 Yet it is highly unlikely that this sequence of visions ever stood alone. There are too many instances of anaphoric reference, and motifs which can only achieve optimal relevance if earlier passages are recalled.163 By evoking and concentrating images from nearly every preceding part of the Apocalypse, these visions intensify the sense of inevitability of divine judgment, the answer to the cry of the martyrs. The theme of judgment underlies the first two scenes and dominates the third. Each ends with someone being consigned to the lake of fire.164 162 163

See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 173–82, for the structure of this section. Examples of direct anaphora include the beast, the false prophet, the image of the beast, those who had received the mark of the beast (19:19, 20), and the dragon, that ancient serpent (20:2). Motifs requiring earlier passages to achieve optimal relevance include the rider on the white horse (Faithful and True, eyes like a flame of fire, sword coming from his mouth, 19:11–16), the winepress (19:15), the kings of the earth (19:19), the bottomless pit and its key (20:1), the souls of the martyrs (20:4), the book of life (20:12), Death and Hades (20:13f.), the sea (21:1), and the bride (21:2), and Alpha and Omega (21:6). 164 The beast and the false prophet (19:20), the devil (20:10), and anyone whose name was not written in the book of life (20:15). Note also the retrospective reference at the end of the fourth vision (21:8). Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 103, has pointed out that the enemies of the people of God exit the stage in the reverse order to that in which they appeared.

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Despite two occurrences of the formula
   and a change in tense and mode of narration, 20:1–10 clearly forms a single complex vision in three sections;165 20:4–6, the passage with the largest number of verbal links to 6:9–11, is bracketed by two passages which form a ‘brief history of the devil’ (20:1–3, 7–10). All three sub-sections are linked by the motif of the thousand years. Clearly, optimal relevance is obtained by identifying the thousand years’ reign (20:4, 6) with the period of the dragon’s imprisonment (20:3).166 But the implications of this must wait.167 What is it that John saw? It is possible to find three objects here (although the grammar is confused): thrones with people sitting on them, the souls of the beheaded, and those who had not worshipped the beast.168 How many distinct groups are intended? With regard to the first object, the plural ‘thrones’ could recall the thrones of the twenty-four elders.169 But on each previous occasion the elders are explicitly mentioned and the focus has been on them, not their thrones. Furthermore, they are always described at worship and seem to spend most of their time, not sitting on their thrones, but on their faces before God’s throne.170 The reference to the thrones, then, is sufficiently different from previous references within the text itself to create significant barriers (in terms of processing effort) to identification and to allow the exploration of other contexts which might 165 Compare Caird, Revelation, pp. 248–50; Michaels, Revelation, p. 219; Aune, Revelation 17–22, 1076–8. 166 This assumes the text as it stands. Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1093, follows E. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Priester f¨ur Gott: Studien zum Herrschafts- und Priestermotiv in der Apokalypse (NA; M¨unster: Verlag Aschendorff, 1972), pp. 295–6, in seeing 20:4–6 as an interlude inserted in a continuous narrative. But Mealy, After the Thousand Years, pp. 40–1, argues that omitting verses 4–6 would leave a passage with unacceptable redundancy. This supports the integrity of the text as we have received it, but does not preclude the possibility that it is the work of an editor. The only connection between the second scene and the other two is the thousand years, and this is introduced with a second anarthrous reference in 20:4. 167 For a useful, though not exhaustive, summary of a number of views on the millennium see Mealy, After the Thousand Years, pp. 15–58, counterbalanced by G. K. Beale, ‘Review Article: J. W. Mealy After the Thousand Years’, EQ 66 (1994), pp. 229–49. Our interest is in how the audience would have related to and been motivated by the passage within their own historical context. From a pragmatic, Relevance-Theoretic viewpoint like this, the most helpful approach is that of Beale, Revelation, pp. 973–4, following V. S. Poythress, ‘Genre and Hermeneutics in Rev 20:1–6’, JETS 36 (1993), pp. 41–54, who argues that of the different levels of meaning of the millennium the most important are the visionary and symbolic levels. See further Beale, Revelation, pp. 1010–21. 168 Grammatical ambiguities include the lack of a subject for #! , the function of the two instances of  which introduce '* <='* and A *, and issues of case and gender agreement for A *. 169 Rev. 4:4 and most recently at 11:16. 170 Rev. 4:10; 5:14; 7:11; 11:16; 19:4.

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yield good cognitive results.171 The most likely allusion is to Dan. 7:9, a context which has been frequently evoked by John and which is therefore readily accessed by the audience.172 But even in this context the identity of those on the thrones is not clearly stated, though they are associated with the Ancient of Days in judgment. John removes the ambiguity by dipping into the same context for his next phrase,  % # : *, recalling the judgment given in favour of the saints of the most high in Dan. 7:22.173 Making this connection has two immediate cognitive effects which interact with each other to clarify meaning. First, it identifies the throne-sitters as saints. Since the elders on their thrones have themselves evoked Daniel 7, making the connection here would not in itself rule them out as the ones sitting on the thrones.174 But in Revelation the elders are never identified as saints, their closest direct association being 5:8, where they, with the four living creatures, offer the prayers of the saints. Secondly, a presupposition is established (from Daniel) in favour of taking % in Rev. 20:4, to mean ‘a judgment, verdict’ rather than ‘the authority to judge’.175 This is supported by co-textual considerations. The only previous occurrences of % in Revelation (17:1; 18:20) are in the sense of ‘a judgment’, and of these the second is particularly significant as it closely parallels 20:4, and also involves the martyr people of God.176 Here God is the judge, and judgment or verdict is given for the saints and prophets against Babylon.177 The combined effect of these inferences is that in the context of the defeat of Satan, John is describing the vindication of the saints. With these cognitive effects already accumulating, the second item among the objects of John’s vision creates immediate resonance. A comparison of the texts leaves little doubt that the beheaded souls here are to 171 172

Contra Mealy, After the Thousand Years, pp. 102–5. Most recently evoked in the judgment of the beast (19:19–20). For a reference to Daniel 7 in 20:4 see Sweet, Revelation, p. 288; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 292; Mounce, Revelation, p. 354; Roloff, Revelation, p. 227; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1085; Beale, Revelation, p. 996. Charles, Revelation, vol. II, p. 182, considers the phrase a marginal gloss based on Daniel 7. The links with Daniel 7 will be explored in detail in ch. 5, pp. 118–24 below. 173 Cf. Dan. 7:22:   % (/ Q% * 0<%  (Th.) or,    %  (/  * Q% *  ) 0<%  (OG). 174 See Beale, Revelation, pp. 323–6. 175 Following Louw and Nida, Lexicon, p. 555, sense 56.24 rather than 56.22. In favour of ‘verdict’ see Beale, Revelation, p. 997; Michaels, Revelation, p. 223; against it are Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 293; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1073. 176 Rev. 18:20, (  F *  % 0. # :1*. 177 All other judges in these visions are divine: the rider on the white horse (19:11) and God himself (20:12–13). Furthermore, no object (direct or indirect) is specified here in 20:4.

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be identified with the slaughtered souls in 6:9–11, who cried for God to judge their enemies.178 When this is combined with the inferences drawn above from the first object, it seems most likely that these are the ones John sees sitting on the thrones.179 Cognitive effects multiply when the first two objects are taken as referring to the same group. But, if this is the case, why does John use such convoluted language, and change ‘slaughtered’ to ‘beheaded’? That a sequential examination of the phrases has released a shower of mutually supporting cognitive effects suggests that the order of the phrases may be deliberate, rather than a case of syntactical incoherence. The impersonal third-person reference to the ones sitting on the thrones here may in fact be a device to create suspense and a growing sense of excitement. The cry of the martyrs has echoed through the entire vision narrative with each succeeding section bringing a little more of the answer. The culmination is yet to come, but nevertheless this is a climactic passage. John’s description of the scene is an almost breathless crescendo of implications, delaying the specification of who it was he saw on the thrones until he tells us something about them.180 But, why does John substitute the familiar ‘slaughtered’ with the perfect participle of so unusual a word as "%&/?181 The lack of any obvious textual precedent for describing Christian martyrs as ‘beheaded’ 178 See the comparisons noted by Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, pp. 204–5; and Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1087–8. A parallel view of the texts makes the similarities evident:

6:9
 . . .   . . . '* <='* . #/  '  "   )  )   '   % B = . 20:4
   . . . '* <='* .  " /  '   % 49 )   '  "   )  ). 179 This takes  ['* <='*] as epexegetic, following Beale, Revelation, p. 996; Sweet, Revelation, p. 288; Michaels, Revelation, pp. 222–3; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 293; Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1084–5; Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 200. Mealy, After the Thousand Years, pp. 108–9, allows this as a possible secondary and paradoxical implication. My argument suggests that, far from being secondary, this is the meaning that optimizes relevance. NRSV’s translation, ‘I also saw the souls’, implies that a different group is in view. A similar decision is evidenced in a few late manuscripts (1006, 1841, 2050), which insert   before '* <='*. This insertion avoids directly asserting that the martyrs were given authority to judge, but becomes unnecessary if % is taken as ‘verdict’ rather than ‘authority to judge’. 180 Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1084, following E.-B. Allo, Saint Jean, L’Apocalypse (Paris: Libraire Victor Lecoffre, 1921), p. 285, suggests that John here uses a ‘hysteron– proteron technique’. 181 This is a hapax in the entire Greek Bible. Related words in the LXX include an axe as a tool, and hewn stone (1 Kings 6:1,7; 10:22). In two passages, Jer. 22:7 and Ps. 73:6 (MT 74:6), axes ( "*; "!/) are used against the people of God, and in the latter, the cry of ‘How long, O God?’ follows in 73:10.

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suggests that the situational context would provide the cognitive environment. Aune discusses in some detail the practice of execution by beheading within the Roman Empire.182 He tentatively concludes that ‘it appears probable that several Christians, including Antipas, had already been executed by decapitation and that more were expected to follow (see Rev 2:10)’.183 This supports our previous identification of the ‘souls of the slaughtered’ as Christians who had already suffered literal martyrdom because of their faith and witness.184 But such an interpretation, which requires the situational context of the audience to be activated, also forges strong links both with the reference to Antipas in 2:13 and with the message to Smyrna (2:8–11). The prediction there of affliction for Christians through imprisonment by the devil, the challenge to ‘be faithful until death, and I will give you a crown of life’, and the promise to the conquerors that they ‘will not be harmed by the second death’ all find strong echoes here in ch. 20.185 The change in description of the martyrs from ‘slaughtered’ to ‘beheaded’ not only focusses attention on literal martyrs, but simultaneously shifts attention from textual precedents to the life situation of the audience under the Roman Empire. The third object of John’s vision, linked to the second by another ambiguous , describes those who had resisted the beast, its image, and its mark. This could be either a further description of the same group as the beheaded souls or a description of a different group. Beale argues plausibly that the failure of A * to match either case or gender of '* <='* moves it in the latter direction.186 This is further supported by the context of ch. 13, to which the description alludes. There it is said of the second beast that ‘it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast so that the image . . . could . . . cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be killed’ (13:15). Yet the passage does 182 184

183 Ibid., p. 1087. Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1085–7. Michaels, Revelation, p. 223, suggests that in John’s view all Christians had been killed. Boring, Revelation, pp. 203–4, however, wisely suggests that whether John sees some Christians as being martyred and some not is merely a matter for speculation. ‘The church as a whole is pictured as a church of martyrs.’ 185 Rev. 2:10–11, cf. the prominence of the devil throughout 20:1–3, 7–10; the souls coming to life and reigning, 20:4; and their protection from the second death, 20:6. 186 Beale, Revelation, p. 1001. Mealy, After the Thousand Years, p. 112, argues that A * may be attracted to the gender of  " / in much the same way as was " * (6:10) to #/ (6:9). The two constructions are, however, not really comparable as " * heads a participial clause clearly dependent on the preceding noun phrase and  A * heads a noun phrase whose relationship to the previous noun phrase is in dispute. For two groups see Swete, Apocalypse, p. 259, for one group Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 293–4; Kraft, Offenbarung, p. 257; Mounce, Revelation, pp. 355–6; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1088.

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not describe any actual executions of those who resist. The first beast is said to ‘conquer’ the saints (13:7), and the implications of suffering and economic oppression are strong (cf. 13:16–17). But that the permission granted to the beast actually resulted in universal martyrdom is at best a very weak implicature.187 It would seem more likely, then, that this third object of John’s vision would be understood as not identical to the second but complementing it, though Mealy is doubtless correct to stress that the focus is not on a distinction between two groups, but on who is included. Thus the description of who it is John saw sitting on the thrones, apart from recording the fulfilment of the martyrs’ cry of 6:9–11, operates in three more ways. First, it sharpens the definition of the martyrs, perhaps by calling to mind specific instances of those who had been beheaded. Secondly, and in the other direction, it broadens the picture to include others who may not have suffered literal martyrdom but who nevertheless resisted the power of the beast and suffered for it. And thirdly, it recalls to the audience that this is precisely the challenge that faces them (cf. 2:10; 3:21): will they be faithful in the face of imprisonment or even possible death? It is the possibility of their future which John sees. This identification with the audience is further strengthened by the statements about those on the thrones, that they reign with the Messiah for a thousand years.188 The eternal reign of God and his Messiah has already been predicted in 11:15 and its inauguration celebrated at 11:17; 12:10; and 19:6. The Lamb and the rider on the white horse have been described as ‘King of Kings’ (17:14; 19:16).189 While an eternal reign will be predicted for God’s people in 22:5, the present passage appears to talk of a reign which, though extensive in time, is nevertheless temporally bound.190 Three significant features of this description relate it to John’s audience. First, the description of those sitting on the throne as reigning 187 So Beale, Revelation, p. 1000. Those who assume universal martyrdom include Charles, Revelation, vol. II, p. 183; Farrer, Revelation, p. 206. Michaels, Revelation, p. 224, comments that the accent is not on martyrdom but on the faithfulness which made martyrdom inevitable. 188 Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1090, is most likely correct in suggesting the translation ‘the Messiah’, since V * is only used in the vision narrative with the article (11:15; 12:10 – both possessed by God; 20:4, 6), in contrast to its use without the article in the title and epistolary prescript (1:1, 2, 5). 189 It is interesting to note that over half the occurrences (20/38) of words from the C "root in Revelation refer to ‘kings of the earth’. Eight refer to God and/or Christ (11:15 (2), 17; 12:10; 15:3; 17:14; 19:6, 16), seven to the saints (1:6, 9; 5:10 (2); 20:4, 6; 22:5), and three to evil powers (9:11; 16:10; 18:7). While there is a clear statement of the supremacy of the divine sovereignty, there is almost a reluctance to speak of the mode of God’s rule in terms relating to human kingship. 190 An immediate cognitive effect produced by the ‘thousand years’ is that it is a very long time compared with some other time periods in the book: the ten days of affliction

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‘with the Messiah’ evokes the promise to the conquerors at Laodicea.191 The prospect of sharing Christ’s reign was there held out to those who conquer, and the conditions for this have now been spelled out in terms of death-defying witness in the face of extreme opposition. Secondly, both in their suffering (slaughtered, 6:9, like the Lamb) and in their vindication (reigning, 20:4, with the Messiah) they are identified with their Lord. Thirdly, the association of reigning with priesthood echoes and draws into the context, not only the reference to humanity redeemed by the blood of the Lamb in the song of the heavenly court (5:9–10), but also John’s almost identical description of the status he shares with the Asian Christians in the opening doxology of his letter (1:5–6). In the latter case it is clearly a reference to the current status of living Christians and draws on an application of Exod. 19:6 and Isa. 61:6 to the Christian community which was not unique to John.192 Thus in 20:4–6 John brings into close connection the current status of his audience as the kingly (and priestly) people of God with the millennial reign of the martyrs and witnesses. It is the sacrificial death of Christ which has established this status for believers, and it is as they are identified as a martyr church that they enjoy it. There is a two-way flow of meaning here. The vindication of the martyrs results in their reigning with Christ, but this in itself is something enjoyed by the whole church as a result of the death of Christ, but which simultaneously identifies it as a martyr church. The first resurrection, therefore, is not reserved for literal martyrs only, but is a description of the life of the church which identifies with the suffering and death of Christ.193 It is necessary to note, before leaving this passage, that the reign of the martyr church described here is clearly not the ultimate state or the final vindication of the martyrs.194 In 20:7–10 there is portrayed a renewed struggle where the forces of evil endanger the ‘camp of the saints and the beloved city’. This is, in some ways, a rerun of the siege of Jerusalem, but predicted for Smyrna (2:10) or the = *  *, the time before the completion of martyrs’ roll, and the period of Satan’s release. From a relevance perspective, the onus of proof is on those who claim a literal interpretation of the millennium, since much more easily accessed cognitive effects are available by taking it symbolically in one way or another. 191 Rev. 3:21, D/ :.- %  4 # ) # .- /,  . 192 See 1 Pet. 2:5, 9; Beale, Revelation, pp. 999–1000; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Priester f¨ur Gott, pp. 336–8; I. H. Marshall, ‘Martyrdom and the Parousia in the Revelation of John’, in F. L. Cross (ed.), Studia Evangelica, vol. IV (TUGAL; Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1968), pp. 333–9. 193 Against Charles, Revelation, vol. II, pp. 184–5. See Marshall, ‘Martyrdom and the Parousia’, for convincing arguments. Again, John reflects a common Christian tradition, 2 Tim. 2:10–13; 1 Pet. 4:13–14. 194 So Beale, Revelation, p. 997, against Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Priester f¨ur Gott, p. 324.

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with vastly different results. Fire from heaven is a motif with extensive ramifications, but especially that of the vindication by God of his servants and of his own deity, and the consequent punishment of his opponents.195 But the final answer to the martyrs’ cry will be found in the vision of the New Jerusalem, a section of Revelation with almost no obvious verbal links with Rev 6:9–11. Perhaps this is because the fulfilment so far exceeds what might have been imagined in the request. It is not this time that the old city is protected, or yet its ruins rebuilt, but instead the people of God find their ultimate identity as being a totally new creation, the New Jerusalem, the dwelling place of God.196 To this we shall return in chapter 6. 4.9

Conclusions

The vision described under the fifth seal is the source of a thematic pattern throughout the book of Revelation. In fact, seen from the perspective of 6:9–11, the rest of the book is an answer to the cry of the martyrs. Despite appearances, God has heard the cry of his people and he will act to vindicate them and to judge their oppressors. The fulfilment of their plea for judgment and vindication is focussed particularly on the scenes involving the bowl angels, taking in the visions of both Babylon and the New Jerusalem. This is not an exhaustive description of the remainder of the book. Other threads are woven together to form the web of John’s text, and there are other ways of seeing the people of God which do not originate in the vision of the souls under the altar. The thread of those who resist the beasts interweaves often with the story of the martyrs; the thread of the followers of the Lamb much less so. Both of these threads will be followed in more detail in the next chapter. But the thematic coherence which the souls under the altar give to the whole book is the main literary result of this chapter.197 We can summarize the further results with regard to the people of God under three main heads: 195 The most accessible context is Ezekiel’s description of the defeat of Gog, Ezek. 38:22. But note also 1 Kings 18:36–40; 2 Kings 1:9–16; Rev. 11:5 (and the counterfeit fire from heaven in Rev. 13:13). See Farrer, Revelation, p. 207; Sweet, Revelation, p. 292; Michaels, Revelation, p. 227; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 297; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1099; Beale, Revelation, p. 1027. 196 Sweet, Revelation, p. 290, points out that John follows Ezekiel’s order of resurrection and kingdom (Ezek. 37), onslaught and destruction of Gog (Ezek. 38–9), and the New Jerusalem (Ezek. 40–8). 197 A number of writers have previously traced some parts of this. See, for example, Klassen, ‘Vengeance in the Apocalypse’, pp. 304–5; Yarbro Collins, ‘The Political Perspective’, pp. 249–51; Heil, ‘The Fifth Seal’.

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(1) The church which John portrays is a martyr church. From the souls under the altar (6:9–11), through the conquerors of Satan (12:10–12) and the progress report on God’s judgment (16:5–7), on to the souls enthroned (20:4), the primary definition of the people of God in this vision is of those who have died because of their witness. This stark portrayal should not be softened by too quick an association of all other Christians with the martyrs in these passages. It is not that John believes that all Christians will necessarily be martyred, any more than he can have believed that all Christians up to his time were martyred. The wider circle of Christians who suffer for their faith without being martyred represents another thread which is woven into the tapestry, and is particularly evident in 19:1–2 and 20:4. But the church as a whole is defined by a willingness to sacrifice one’s own life. Nor is this an essentially pessimistic picture. Sacrifice and martyrdom are related to witness as its result, to overcoming as its means, and to resurrection as its ground.198 The martyr church is a pure church, both in the sense that it contains no compromising Christians and in the sense that its members wear the white robes of those who are accepted in the presence of God. Further, the martyr church is a church of the overcomers, not in the sense of those who actively do battle with the cosmic forces, but precisely by means of having given their lives.199 In these two aspects it is the ideal towards which the members of the real Asian churches have already been urged in the seven messages. (2) The martyr church is modelled on Christ in every dimension of its existence. Indeed, in many ways the relationship is much more intimate than that of a model to its prototype. The company of the slaughtered mirrors the slaughtered Lamb; their blood too has been shed (6:9–10; 16:6; 18:24; 19:2).200 Their death is a result of their witness (6:9; 11:7; 12:11; 17:6; 20:4), which consists of holding on to and reflecting the testimony of Jesus.201 Their victory is by means of this witness which leads to death, but even more importantly by means of the sacrificial death of the Lamb, which was the mode of his own victory (12:11, cf. 5:5–6, 9).202 Their reign is a reign with the Messiah (20:4). 198 All of this is well illustrated in the story of the two witnesses in Rev. 11:3–13. See Trites, Witness, pp. 164–70, and my treatment in ch. 5, pp. 160–4 below. 199 This theme will be developed in chapter 5. 200 For the importance of the death of Christ in the christology of Revelation see Reddish, ‘Martyr Christology’; and M. E. Boring, ‘Narrative Christology in the Apocalypse’, CBQ 54 (1992), especially pp. 714–16 and 719–20. 201 See the excellent discussion of the testimony of Jesus, which is taken first as a subjective genitive, by Trites, Witness, pp. 154–74 (who also gives it its full weight as legal testimony), and Sweet, ‘Maintaining the Testimony’. 202 The victory of the people of God will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter. See Sweet, ‘Maintaining the Testimony’, pp. 109–14.

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(3) John’s audience are consistently challenged to identify with the martyr church. At this point there is no determinism in John’s interaction with the Asian churches. Although he prophesies the future suffering and vindication of the church, he does not describe a definitive future for the particular groups of believers to whom he writes. The martyr church is portrayed as something that exists, with a history and a future, and with which they may or may not choose to identify. There is no picture of a compromising church in the visionary narratives, but at the edges of these narratives the real people of God are made aware of the challenge that faces them. These people, to whom the seven messages were addressed, who received both praise and rebuke from the risen Christ, are people whose future is as yet unwritten and who face real choices as to the way they will live. To these people the challenge is presented first implicitly by the way in which the martyr church of the visions echoes and fulfils the ideals presented in the seven messages.203 But there are also more specific modes of challenge. There is the need to complete the number of the fellow servants of the martyrs, who have yet to be killed (6:11), though this is not a theme that is developed in any detail.204 There are direct portrayals of the contemporary audience and the situation they are about to face, with alternative responses hinted at (12:17; ch. 13). And there are the specific echoes of the promises to those who conquer, which underline the fact that the ethical choices facing the readers/hearers have important consequences for their future. But what is it that John’s fellow Christians are challenged to do? Primarily they are to be prepared to be numbered among the martyrs. This involves faithful witness to the point of death.205 But it also involves ethical choices and an obedient life-style (12:17; 19:8). Indeed, the two sides are more closely linked than is apparent within a Western compartmentalized world-view. To live an obedient life is to witness (12:17). To witness without compromise, in the context which John envisions for his hearers, leads to death. To join the martyr church in this way is to be modelled on the Lamb. 203 Note the references to the martyr/witness Antipas (see pp. 79, 109–10 above); the white robes (pp. 86–8 above); the promise to Thyatira from Ps. 2 (p. 94 above); the promises to the conquerors generally (pp. 95–8 above), and the suffering predicted for Smyrna (p. 110 above). 204 The only follow-up is indirect, in the sealing of the servants of God and the countless multitudes in ch. 7, which will be discussed in the next chapter. John, having used the idea to establish a point of contact with the audience, apparently does not want to emphasize it. 205 The suggestion by Yarbro Collins, ‘Political Perspective’, pp. 244–51, of a relationship to Zealot ideology finds only one real point of contact (refusal to use a Roman coin, p. 253), and that is far from convincing.

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At the same time John holds out, as motivation, the prospect of victory through witness and sacrifice, of reigning with Christ for ever, and of the ultimate victory of God and his eternal dwelling with and in his people. The emphasis in this chapter has been on the vindication by God of his saints. The theme of their victory has been somewhat in the background, partly because it is intimately involved with other portrayals of the people of God. It is to these other images, and the consequences of the victory of the saints, to which we now turn.

5 C O M PA N I O N S O F T H E L A M B – A MESSIANIC ECCLESIOLOGY

5.1

Introduction

As a metaphor for the people of God, the 144,000 male virgin followers of the Lamb on Mt Zion (14:1–5) stand in dramatic contrast to the souls of the slaughtered under the altar. Where the slaughtered souls depicted the martyr church, suffering to the point of death for their witness to Jesus, the companions of the Lamb appear to depict the church militant, with overtones of victorious conflict with an enemy. There are other passages, notably ch. 7, 17:14, and 19:11–16, which also appear to contribute to a picture of a militant and ultimately victorious people of God. But is the picture of the church militant an essentially different picture of the church, which exists either in parallel to, or in tension with, the martyr church? Does it move the audience to a different kind of response to their situation? In this chapter we shall see that there are very significant links between the two strands of thought, and in particular that the mode of victory envisaged for the people of God is none other than the path of faithful testimony to the point of death. But while this thread interweaves with that of the martyred saints, it has its own colours and patterns to contribute to the self-understanding of the audience. In addition to the dramatic contrast of its imagery, 14:1–5 is a significant launching point because it explicitly expresses a most important feature of John’s depiction of the people of God, one already noted in the previous chapter, namely their intimate relationship with their Lord. The Lamb stands on Mt Zion and with him are 144,000 with his name and his Father’s name on their foreheads, and they follow him wherever he goes. While the Lamb is the central figure of the visionary passages of the Apocalypse, the majority of references to him have something to do with his people. The relationship between them is described in terms of what he does for them in redemption, salvation, and leadership (5:12; 7:10, 14, 17; 12:11; 13:8; 15:3; 21:23, 27; 22:1), their worship and service of him (7:9; 21:22; 22:3), their companionship with him (14:1, 4; 17:14; 117

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19:9, 21:14), and, as a special case of this last, their role as his bride (19:7, 9; 21:9 and onward links to 21:22, 23, 27; 22:1, 3).1 Conversely, the identity and the task of the people of God are defined in terms of their relationship to the Lamb. The ecclesiology of Revelation is closely patterned on its christology. It is for this reason that I have chosen to describe the ecclesiology woven by these threads of text as ‘messianic’. While some of the imagery of 14:1–5 is both new and puzzling, there are two features which forge immediate relevance relations with earlier passages. The identity of the 144,000 companions of the Lamb may be debated, but their number itself immediately recalls the sealing of God’s servants in 7:1–8. Further, the reference to the name of the Lamb and his Father on their foreheads not only strengthens the link to that passage (cf. 7:3, where the servants of God are sealed on their foreheads), but provides an immediate contrast to the followers of the beast (13:16–17). The discourse structure of Revelation suggests that behind the surfacelevel structure with its numbered sequences, other structural frameworks are detectable, and that the one which links chapters 7, 13, and 14 owes some of its coherence to Daniel 7.2 We begin therefore with a brief analysis of the narrative structure of Daniel 7 and the relationship there between the ‘one like a son of man’ and the ‘saints of the most high’. This will provide the background to a more detailed examination of Revelation 7, following which we shall trace the thread through chapters 13, 14, and beyond. 5.2

Daniel 7 in the cognitive environment of Revelation

Daniel 7, after a third-person introduction (7:1), takes the form of a firstperson narrative account of a vision and the explanation given to the narrator by a character within the vision.3 But its structure is complicated by the occurrence of two explanations of the vision, one summary and one in detail, with a second account of the vision between them, supplying 1 Other references to the Lamb refer to his relationship to other heavenly beings (5:6, 8, 12, 13) or to his enemies (6:1 and passim, 6:16; 14:10; 17:14). See also D. Guthrie, ‘The Lamb in the Structure of the Book of Revelation’, VoxEv 12 (1981), pp. 64–71. Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 162–208, provides an extended examination of Christ as the Lamb in Revelation. 2 See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 149–51. 3 There is no final passage corresponding to the third-person introduction, Dan. 7:1, just as there is no final parallel to Rev. 1:1–3. For a narrative treatment of Daniel 7 see T. J. Meadowcroft, Aramaic Daniel and Greek Daniel: A Literary Comparison (JSOTSup, 198; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), pp. 198–244, and, to a lesser extent, P. L. Redditt, Daniel (NCB; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), pp. 114–33.

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information not present in the first account. Much of what has been written on this chapter centres on the origin of its imagery within the context of the ancient Near East.4 This is not entirely irrelevant to our case, as J. J. Collins has rightly stated that it impacts on the sense of the passage and not its reference.5 Nevertheless, relevance considerations suggest that the audience of Revelation would access the context of Daniel 7 more easily than that of Akkadian or Babylonian myths. We shall concentrate on the chapter as it stands in the canonical scriptures.6 Our investigations will be further limited to the influence of the narrative structure of Daniel 7 on Revelation, and the implications of this structure for the relationship between the ‘one like a son of man’ and the ‘saints (of the Most High)’. The narrative structure of Daniel 7 can be displayed by aligning the four strands, the first vision narration (verses 2–14), the embedded supplementary vision narration (verses 19–22), the first (summary) explanation (verses 17–18), and the second (detailed) explanation (verses 23–7). This can be seen on the left hand side of Table 5.1.7 Alongside this are passages in Revelation which evoke elements of the vision, divided according to the chapters in which they occur.8 Significant issues in understanding the structure of Daniel include the fact that the son of man features only in the first description, with his place taken in all three subsequent strands by some form of ‘the saints’, and questions about the identity of the ‘one like a son of man’, his relationship to the Ancient of Days, and the identity of the ‘saints of the Most High’. The history of the Son of Man tradition has received considerable attention, and it is not my intention to review it in detail here, because 4 J. J. Collins, Daniel (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), pp. 280–94, provides a good discussion of the various backgrounds and in particular a critique of a new proposal of a Mesopotamian background by Kvanvig, Roots of Apocalyptic. 5 J. J. Collins, ‘Stirring up the Great Sea: The Religio-Historical Background of Daniel 7’, in Seers, Sybils and Sages, p. 141. See also his comments in Daniel, p. 282, ‘What is required, then, is not holistic correspondence but that the use of a particular image be rendered intelligible by analogy with the proposed prototype.’ For our study of Revelation the question is whether a particular image can be rendered more intelligible by analogy to the Danielic prototype. 6 See Meadowcroft, Aramaic Daniel, pp. 206–8, and references there for a defence of the coherence and integrity of the chapter. Also Collins, Daniel, pp. 278–80. Problems of integrity are irrelevant to our purpose as the chapter attained its present form long before Revelation was written. 7 See J. Goldingay, Daniel (WBC, 30; Dallas: Word Books, 1989), pp. 155–6, for a similar display. 8 The chapter groupings are for convenience of display and do not reflect the structural divisions of the book. See also M. Casey, Son of Man: The Interpretation and Influence of Daniel 7 (London: SPCK, 1979), p. 142; J. Comblin, Le Christ dans L’Apocalypse (BTTB3, 6; Tournai: Descl´ee, 1965), pp. 67–8.

2 3

1 Wind on sea 2 Emergence of beasts 3 Nature of beasts First beast Second beast Third beast Fourth beast its ten horns 4 Little horn Arrogant words War on saints Three times 5 Ancient of Days enthroned Throne attendants 6 Court in judgement Books opened Beast burned 7 Arrival of son of man 8 Son of man given dominion Peoples, languages etc. Holy ones gain kingdom

Second

22

18

27

1:6; 2:28; 3:21 5:10

5:9

7:9

10:11, 11:9

13:2

13:1

13–14

17:8

17:14

17:3, 12, 16 17:12

17:8

17

13:7; 14:6 17:15

13:8 14:9–11 14:14

13:1 13:1 13:5, 7 13:5 12:7, 17 13:7 12:14 13:5 12:3 12:7

12

Chapters

Allusions in Revelation

20:4, 6; 22:5

19:16; 20:4, 6; 22:1–3

20:4, 12 20:12, 15; 21:27 19:20; 20:10, 15

19:1

20:4, 11–12

20:9

19–22

Notes: 1 Italicized references in Revelation are weak allusions, which may not echo all important features. 2. Indentations are used in the Daniel columns to indicate sub-sections or elements. 3 Most of the references to books in Revelation are italicized, since they cover the two scrolls. References to the Lamb’s book of life are closer to Daniel. 4 Allusions to the dominion or reign of the son of man are only indirect in Revelation 4–22, as they actually refer to the Lamb.

14b

1:6; 2:28; 3:21 5:12–13 7:17 11:15

10:2, 8

14

7:9

11:3

11:7

11:7

10–11

5:6–7

5:11

4:1–4

7:1

7

1:7, 13

1:14–16

4–6

5, 6

26

23 24a 24–5 25a 25 25c

1–3

3:5

22

22

17

First Second

Explanations

10c–12 10c 11 13

10b

9–10ab

19 7c 20a 8, 11 20–1 8c, 11a 20c 21

4–7 4 5 6 7

First

Element

Narrations

Narrative structure of Daniel 7

Table 5.1 Narrative structure of Daniel 7 and Revelation

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when John picks up the motif he unambiguously identifies the Son of Man with Jesus Christ.9 Whether the ‘holy ones’ in Daniel 7 are to be taken as human, as angelic or other heavenly beings, or as both is a matter of continuing dispute, but once again for our purposes, the question is not how the author of Daniel or his audience understood them, but how John and his audience would have done so. In Revelation,
 used substantively always refers to the people of God.10 This is true not only of Revelation but of the whole NT cognitive environment. Thus access to Daniel 7 in the context of a late first-century NT church would most likely result in a reading which took the ‘holy ones’ to be the people of God. But if this is the case, there are two further implicatures which may come over. First, the saints in Daniel are the object of military attack by hostile forces represented by the small horn of the fourth beast (Dan. 7:21, 25), an attack which is at least temporarily successful. Secondly, there is no description in Daniel 7 of any military initiative by the saints or any success attributed to them. Their ultimate victory and rule come as a result of direct divine action originating from heaven (7:22, 26). The fact that, in three out of Daniel’s four narrative threads, the establishment of an eternal kingdom of the ‘holy ones’ takes the place of that of the ‘one like a son of man’ in the first one suggests that the holy ones are a corporate equivalent to the son of man, or conversely, that the son of man is a personification of the company of the holy ones, or at the very least that the kingdom of the holy ones is closely associated with that of the son of man.11 For this to be an immediate cognitive effect of the mention of ‘one like a son of man’ for John’s audience would require 9 Rev. 1:7; 1:13, cf. 1:18; 2:8, 18; cf. Comblin, Le Christ, pp. 73–9 and passim. In this John is apparently independent of the Synoptic tradition of Jesus’ self-reference, but showing a relationship to the amalgam in Matt. 24:30. See also A. Feuillet, ‘Le Fils de l’homme de Daniel et la tradition biblique (1)’, RB 60 (1953), pp. 170–202; F. H. Borsch, The Son of Man in Myth and History (NTL; London: SCM Press, 1967); Meadowcroft, Aramaic Daniel, pp. 201–3; Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, pp. 35–9, 44–9. Useful reviews of the Son of Man tradition in the NT are to be found in C. Colpe, ‘    ’, in TDNT, VIII, pp. 307–30; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘The Influence of Daniel on the New Testament’, in J. J. Collins, Daniel, pp. 90–105. For other bibliographies on the son of man in Daniel see M. Casey, ‘General, Generic and Indefinite: The Use of the Term “Son of Man” in Aramaic Sources and in the Teaching of Jesus’, JSNT 29 (1987), p. 53, n. 1; J. Coppens, La Rel`eve apocalyptique du messianisme royal, vol. II, Le Fils D’Homme, v´et´ero- et intertestamentaire (BETL, 61; Louvain: Leuven University Press, 1983), pp. 9–12. 10 Rev. 5:8; 8:3, 4; 11:18; 13:7, 10; 14:12; 16:6; 17:6; 18:20, 24; 20:9; 22:11. It is used attributively of Christ (3:7), God (4:8; 6:10), angels (14:10), people (20:6), and Jerusalem (old: 11:2; new: 21:2, 10; 22:19). 11 See F. M. Wilson, ‘The Son of Man in Jewish Apocalyptic Literature’, SBT 8 (1978), p. 33. For corporate views see M. D. Hooker, The Son of Man in Mark: A Study of the Background of the Term ‘Son of Man’ and its Use in St. Mark’s Gospel (London: SPCK, 1967), pp. 11–31; A. Lacocque, ‘Apocalyptic Symbolism: A Ricoeurian Hermeneutical

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them to be able to access the overall structure of Daniel 7. Fortunately, this is not necessary: as we shall see, John makes the connection explicit for them. Consideration of the pattern of allusion to the structural elements of Daniel 7 in Revelation yields a number of significant results. First, John introduces the key figure of ‘one like a son of man’ in Revelation 1, both implicitly in his prologue (Rev. 1:7) and explicitly in the description of his first vision (1:13).12 The former is a good example of a metalepsis, a contextual evocation where the omitted reference to the ‘one like a son of man’ is nevertheless strongly implied by the reference to coming on the clouds.13 As to the latter, others have pointed out that John’s anarthrous    owes little or nothing to the titular usage in the gospels, and can be thought to be directly evoking the Daniel 7 scene.14 The audience’s perception of these two strong contextual allusions (1:7, 13) means that Daniel 7 is a link, binding together the world within the vision and the audience’s own world outside the vision.15 The expectation of the Parousia is thus thematic and is the feature that orients both the direction of the visions and the life of the churches.16 The fact that the description of the son of man figure in 1:14–16 owes much to the depiction of the Ancient of Days in Dan. 7:9 suggests that John may have been aware of the Old Greek tradition in which the son of man comes ‘as Approach’, BR 26 (1981), p. 11; Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, p. 39; Meadowcroft, Aramaic Daniel, pp. 212–13; A. Lacocque, The Book of Daniel, trans. David Pellauer (Atlanta: John Knox, 1979), p. 124–26. See also T. Meadowcroft, ‘Exploring the Dismal Swamp: The Identity of the Anointed One in Daniel 9.24–27’, JBL 120 (2001), pp. 429–49. Against this is J. J. Collins, ‘The Son of Man in First-Century Judaism’, NTS 38 (1992), pp. 464–65. 12 See L. T. Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration and Christology (WUNT 2 Reihe, 40; T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1995), pp. 211–13 for parallels between Rev. 1:12–16 and the various traditions of Daniel. The immediate contextual evocation of Dan. 7:13 by Rev. 1:7 may retrospectively associate the  of 1:6 with the Danielic kingdom of the saints, though in itself 1:6 evokes the covenant description of the people of Israel (Exod. 19:6). 13 See ch. 2, pp. 36–8 above. 14 See Borsch, Son of Man, pp. 239–40; Casey, Son of Man, p. 150; and n. 98, p. 121 above. See also Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 95–100. On the other hand, J. Schaberg, ‘Mark 14.62: Early Christian Merkabah Imagery?’, in J. Marcus and M. L. Soards (eds.), Apocalyptic and the New Testament. Essays in Honour of J. Louis Martyn (JSNTSup, 24; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), p. 82, argues that Ezek. 1:26 lies behind both Rev. 1:13 and Mark 14:62. 15 The appearance of one like a son of man at Rev. 14:14, in the second main vision narrative (4:1–22:9), will strengthen this effect, but less dramatically, given its greater distance. 16 This opening motto of the Parousia is echoed, not only through the messages of Christ to the churches (2:5, 16; 3:11), but almost deafeningly at the end of the book (22:7, 10, 12, 17, 20).

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the Ancient of Days’.17 This association is carried through the vision narrations of Revelation, but in the second (4:1–22:10) it is the Lamb who is closely associated with God, reinforcing the identification of the Lamb and the Son of Man.18 Whether or not first-century Jews read Dan. 7:13 as messianic, John, by his amalgam of images, ensures that his readers do so.19 Secondly, the climax of Daniel’s narrative, the close association of the rule of the son of man with the rule of the saints, is presented by John at the very beginning of his prophetic letter both as present fact (1:6) and as a promise to the overcomers (2:16–28; 3:21). This present/future rule of the saints appears again within the second vision with the present fact (5:10a) in creative tension with future hope (5:10b; 20:4; 22:5). And the close relationship, if not identification, between the Lamb and his followers is itself an echo in another key of the individual/corporate dialectic in Daniel 7.20 Thirdly, echoes of Daniel’s description of the heavenly court, the judgment of the beasts and judgment for the saints, are to be found primarily at the two ends of the second vision section, namely chs. 4–5 and 19–22. Beale has detailed many more semantic links between Daniel 7 and Revelation 4–5.21 Since Daniel 7 has already been so strongly evoked 17 Dan. 7:13 (OG),    !  "  #    $% , & #   ' ( . Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration, pp. 213–18, argues that the OG may be a genuine translation and not a mistake. For a more detailed textual study see A. Yarbro Collins, ‘The “Son of Man” Tradition and the Book of Revelation’, in J. H. Charlesworth (ed.), The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), pp. 538–68. Yarbro Collins argues (pp. 548–51) from parallels with Daniel 10:2–12:4 that the figure like a son of man in Rev. 1:13 is to be understood as an angel. But nothing in that vision accounts for the   . In any case, that angelic attributes are not inconsistent with divine status has been convincingly shown by Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, pp. 112–28, 171–2. 18 This is apparent from the first throne-room scene, chs. 4–5. As we shall see presently, the scene has a considerable number of features which evoke Daniel 7, but in this context the one approaching the divine throne is the slaughtered Lamb. See n. 21 below. See also Comblin, Le Christ, pp. 76–7. 19 For the ‘son of man’ as Messiah, see M. Delcor, ‘Les Sources du chapitre VII de Daniel’, VT 18 (1968), pp. 290–312; B. McNeil, ‘The Son of Man and the Messiah: A Footnote’, NTS 26 (1980), pp. 419–21; Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 66–85; S. Kim, ‘The “Son of Man”’ as the Son of God (WUNT, 30; T¨ubingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1983). 20 See the the summary in ch. 4, p. 114 above. 21 Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament, p. 88, against Ruiz, Ezekiel in the Apocalypse, esp. pp. 97–128. Ruiz’s assertion of an Ezekiel 1–2 background is itself a reply to Beale’s original proposal, G. K. Beale, The Use of Daniel in Jewish Apocalyptic Literature and in the Revelation of St. John (Lanham: University Press of America, 1984), pp. 178–228. While the importance of Ezekiel or Isaiah as background should not be denied, it is clear that Daniel 7 is recalled in Revelation 4–5.

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by 1:7, 13, it is reasonable to assume that the throne-room scene of chs. 4–5 would be understood against that background. But if so, then the outcome of the judgment is something that the audience would be anticipating but which remains an unresolved tension until the end of the book. Seen like this, the whole book is like an expansion of the throne-room scene of Daniel 7. On the other hand, the story of the beasts and the little horn with its war on the saints is to be found largely in Rev. 7:1 and chs. 13–14. The angels who restrain the four winds also hold back the story line of Daniel 7 while the 144,000 are sealed. There are anticipatory echoes of the story in 11:7, and the nature and actions of the dragon in ch. 12 also recall the fourth beast and its horn. But at 13:1 the vision of Daniel 7 is released again to flow sequentially, and the connections in 13:1–7 are strong. The climax, however, is missing, and the beast itself appears to escape punishment at this point. Ch. 14 acts as a temporary conclusion, featuring the promise of punishment for worshippers of the beast (14:9– 11), and the appearance on a cloud of one like a son of man (14:14), in a section full of images of judgment. Implicit connections are also present in the assocation of the Lamb and his followers (14:1–5) and the proclamation of the gospel to every nation, calling on them to serve God (14:6–7; cf. Dan. 7:14). Not until 19:20 do we read of the punishment of the beast. John has turned Daniel 7 inside out to form the framework of the second vision narrative. Where in Daniel the throne-room scene is contained within the story of the beasts, in Revelation the story of the beasts is contained within the throne-room scene. If the audience make the connection in chs. 4–5 (as seems highly likely given the earlier prominence of Daniel 7), then they will be assured both of the eventual outcome and of the fact that everything they encounter is under the direct rule of God from his heavenly throne. The long delay in hearing the anticipated overthrow of evil focusses attention on the audience’s present time. Finally, note that echoes of Daniel 7 are rare, if not entirely missing, from the three numbered sequences within the second vision, the seals (ch. 6), the trumpets (chs. 8–9), and the bowls (chs. 15–16). This is remarkable given the density of reference elsewhere, and suggests that John has merged two structural outlines, perhaps by inserting the material in the numbered sequences into a narrative structure derived (though not copied) from Daniel 7. This Danielic narrative structure bridges the main divisions of the visionary sections and ensures that the whole book coheres.

Companions of the Lamb – a messianic ecclesiology 5.3

125

Rev. 7:1–8: sealing the servants of God

Rev. 7:1–8 is important not only as background to 14:1–5, but in its own right as a scene central to understanding the role of the people of God as actors in the drama.22 Although God’s people do not appear on stage, they are strongly focussed off stage. It is necessary therefore to examine in some detail, within the cognitive environments it opens, the way in which it contributes to the audience’s self-understanding and the directions in which it moves them. Verse 1  )   (unique here) is a marker of lower level than that to be encountered at 7:9, and links this passage closely to the description of events under the sixth seal;23 7:1–8 is a part of the sixth seal rather than a parenthesis or aside, but the linkage is retrospective (to the beginning of the seal) rather than sequential.24 John sees four angels at the four corners of the earth restraining the four winds. ‘Four’ has already been a prominent number.25 Described by Sweet as ‘the number of the universe’, it appears here to emphasize the completeness of God’s control (through his messengers) over the created order.26 As a first answer to the question posed in 6:17, ‘Who can stand?’, John is shown that angels can not only stand, but also stand behind the destructive powers unleashed on the earth, being responsible for both restraint and catastrophe.27 The four winds themselves might open several possible contexts, including the immediate previous reference to wind (6:13), the Synoptic Apocalypse, where angels gather the elect from the four winds 22 23 24

See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 128–33, 141–2, 195–6. Ibid., pp. 115–17, 128–30. So A. Steinmann, ‘The Tripartite Structure of the Sixth Seal, the Sixth Trumpet, and the Sixth Bowl of John’s Apocalypse (Rev. 6:12–7:17; 9:13–11:14; 16:12–16)’, JETS 35 (1992), pp. 69–79; and Michaels, Revelation, p. 102. Others hold that it is an interlude between the sixth and seventh seals (Beale, Revelation, pp. 405–6; Boring, Revelation, p. 127; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 203; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 65; Sweet, Revelation, p. 146). Roloff, Revelation, p. 96, sees ch. 7 as parallel to the whole of ch. 6. 25 Four living creatures (4:6); four horsemen (6:1–8). 26 Sweet, Revelation, p. 14; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 450. 27 ‘Four winds from the four quarters of heaven’ are God’s agents of destruction in Jer. 49:36 (LXX 25:16). In some Jewish traditions winds from the cardinal points of the compass were beneficial, but those from the corners were destructive. See Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Mounce, Revelation, p. 166; Kraft, Offenbarung, p. 124; and other references in P. Prigent, ‘L’Apocalypse: ex´eg`ese historique et analyse structurale’, NTS 26 (1979), pp. 127–37.

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(Matt. 24:31), Zech. 6:5–8, where the four horses/chariots were explained as the four winds of heaven, and Dan. 7:2, where the four winds of heaven are directed at the sea.28 The simile of the fig tree losing its fruit in a strong wind (6:13) does not, of course, refer to anything, and certainly not to the four winds mentioned here. It is a literary image with a point of comparison to another stock literary image (the falling of the stars from heaven). But the potential for devastation of the four winds in Revelation 7 has both literal and metaphorical implications and would readily create links both to the simile and to the event which it illustrates.29 Thus the disaster which is still in the future in 7:1–8 is associated with the period described in 6:12–17. In the Synoptic Apocalypse cosmic disasters similar to those described in 6:12–17 are followed by the appearance of the Son of Man on the clouds, the mourning of ‘all the tribes of the earth’, and the despatch of angels to the four winds to gather the elect.30 If John assumed that his audience knew this material, then the mention of the angels restraining the four winds (7:1) will most likely have created at least a hope that the people of God would be preserved from the cosmic catastrophes.31 Zechariah has been an open book for John’s audience, particularly through the first five seals.32 Since the four horse-drawn chariots in Zech. 6:1–8 are explained as ‘the four winds of heaven’, a connection may be created between the four winds in Rev. 7:1 and the four horsemen of Rev. 6:1–8.33 Yet the potential activity of the winds in 7:1 is different from that of the horsemen in either Revelation 6 or Zechariah. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse are primarily oriented towards human society in their 28 The latter two draw on the concept of ‘the four winds of heaven’ in a wider context of common cosmology. Yet both passages have significant connections with Revelation and it may be that John is directly evoking them rather than the more general concept, offering the prospect of greater cognitive effects for the extra processing effort required of the audience to make these specific connections. 29 So Michaels, Revelation, p. 111; Farrer, Revelation, p. 103. 30 See Matt. 24:29–31 and parallels. For the likelihood that this material contributes to the cognitive environment of Revelation see above, ch. 3, p. 54, and ch. 4, p. 73; also Sweet, Revelation, pp. 17–21. 31 John does not simply reproduce the Synoptic scheme. There is no mention here of the appearance of the Son of Man. Although John has already, in the motto of 1:7, identified the Son of Man with Christ, at this point in the vision narration he maintains the tension. There is no Parousia yet, and resolution will have to wait for ch. 14 and beyond. See Michaels, Revelation, pp. 109–10. 32 See ch. 4, pp. 69–70 above. 33 See Beale, Revelation, pp. 406–7; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 142; Roloff, Revelation, p. 96.

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destructive powers: conquering, removing peace, and causing slaughter, economic crisis, and death by sword. Famine is a feature of the third and fourth seals, but the focus is on famine as a social event, rather than a natural disaster. Each of the disasters is discriminatory and non-universal. The chariots in Zechariah are said only to patrol the earth, except those in the North, which also ‘set [Yahweh’s] spirit at rest’ (Zech. 6:8). The sixth seal, however, is the occasion for natural disasters on a cosmic scale. The effect on humanity is indiscriminatory and universal (6:15), giving urgency to the question of the place of the people of God, and the threatened activity of the four winds seems to be much closer to this than to the first four seals. It seems unlikely, then, that directly accessing the context of Zechariah would yield significant cognitive effects, whether drawn from Zechariah or from the first four seals, without excessive processing effort. Similarly, the direct evocation of Dan. 7:2 would yield few effects to justify it. No other features of that chapter are present. However, while direct access gives few results, both Zechariah and Daniel have contributed to a cognitive environment which is potentially more relevant than either individually. In Jewish tradition, the horsemen of Zechariah were associated, via the winds, with the beasts of Daniel 7 which emerge from the sea following the action of the four winds.34 The convergence of these two texts in the apocalyptic traditions which we assume John shared with his audience strengthens the possibility that further associations of the beasts in Daniel 7 might be evoked by our present text. Among these is the threat posed by the horn of the fourth beast to the ‘Holy Ones of the Most High’, and the ultimate judgment of the beast and reign of the holy ones. But if these implicatures are made available, they are only weakly so. John does not develop this imagery, but he does relieve some of the tension regarding the status of the people of God in the face of the winds and the cosmic disasters they bring. If the devastations described in the sixth seal were cosmic in scope, they were nevertheless geocentric in effect. First an earthquake, then the classic signs in the sky, then the stars falling to earth, then the sky rolling up (again a geocentric point of view), and all mountains and islands are removed from their place. Noting that sea is an implicit component of the concept of island, this last feature implies that both land and sea are subjected to unimaginable forces. In this context, the potential devastation of the winds against land, sea, and trees fits in very 34 Targ. Zech. 2:1–4; 4:7; 6:1–8; Targ. Hos. 13:9; and Targ. Ps.-J. Lev. 26:22. See Beale, Revelation, pp. 386–7; Casey, Son of Man, p. 146; Sweet, Revelation, p. 147.

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precisely.35 Thus 7:1 does take a backward step, but to parallel 6:12–17, not 6:1–8.36 Verses 2–3 These verses heighten the tension created in verse 1 and underline the temporary restraint of the destructive powers and the purpose of this restraint for the people of God. The winds have disappeared and the four angels are reimaged directly (and, given the repetition, emphatically) as the ones who have been given (*+, cf. 6:2, 4, 8) the power to harm earth and sea. The angel coming from the rising of the sun may bring connotations of the appearance of God’s salvation.37 It certainly underlines both the geocentric point of view of the vision and the fact that the cosmic disasters of 6:12–17 are not yet released. The angel bears a ‘seal of the living God’, probably a signet ring or some similar device marking him as God’s trusted representative.38 His command secures a further but limited delay before the angels are allowed to harm the earth, for the purpose of ‘sealing’ the servants of God. Such postponements of judgment are familiar from apocalyptic texts.39 The evocation of this theme brings connotations of the imminence of divine judgment and of the grace of God in preserving his people. But specifically what background does the audience need to access in order to make sense of the statements? Who are the slaves of God who are to be sealed? And what is the significance of their sealing in this context? The most immediate cognitive environment to which the mention of a seal and of sealing leads, before any cultural or intertextual contexts are considered, is the inner-textual environment of Rev. 5:1–8:1, in which the scroll with seven seals is the overarching symbol.40 This must be a deliberate irony, working in favour of the people of God. The seals on 35 36

Land and sea are mentioned three times (7:1, 2, 3) and trees twice (7:1, 3). So G. A. Krodel, Revelation (ACNT; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989), p. 181. Beale, Revelation, pp. 405–6, sees 7:1 as taking place before 6:1–8. For other views see the references in n. 24, p. 125 above. 37 For the Messiah, or more generally salvation, coming from the East, see Sweet, Revelation, p. 148; Farrer, Revelation, pp. 106–8; Roloff, Revelation, p. 96; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 142; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 119. The East is seen as incidental or geographical by Mounce, Revelation, p. 167; Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 166. 38 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 452–4; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Ford, Revelation, pp. 117–18; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 142; Harrington, Revelation, p. 98. 39 Ezekiel 9; 1 Enoch 66:1–2; Ap. Bar. 6:4–5. See Roloff, Revelation, p. 96; Beale, Revelation, p. 413; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 143; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 118. 40 ! occurs, apart from ch. 7, at 5:1, 2, 5, 9; 6:1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 12; 8:1; 9:4.

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the scroll which is first seen in the hand of the one seated on the throne (5:1) presumably bear the imprint of God’s own seal. The opening of the seven seals reveals the wrath of God against disobedient humanity. But here a simultaneous sealing is to take place. And just as the inexorable revelation of the judgment of God has been marked by a repetitive formula (,   $ - . !/ . . .), so now the sealing of God’s servants is emphasized by repetition.41 Against the background of the unsealing of the scroll, with its attendant disasters, the people of God are secured by a process of sealing. Beyond this immediate literary context, the concept of a seal or signet as a mark of ownership, with implications of authenticity, security, and protection, is one that would have been readily available to a first-century audience.42 So accessible is this general environment, and so productive of relevant implicatures, that the burden of proof lies with any claim that a more specific (and hence less easily accessed) environment must be opened to optimize relevance at this point. Nevertheless, several such possibilities must be examined, some of them special cases of the more general implicatures available from the social context. That the mark of a seal or signet was some representation of the name of the owner is a conclusion requiring little processing effort, and the further conclusion that the seal here is the name of God will be reinforced both retrospectively and recursively by Rev. 14:1 and 22:4.43 But Beale’s suggestion, that there is an allusion here to the names of the tribes engraved on the shoulder piece and breastplate of the High Priest (Exod. 28:11, 21), with support from the reference to the precious stones that form (or adorn) the foundations of the New Jerusalem (Rev. 21:19–20), goes beyond the conditions for optimum relevance. The latter passage has yet to be heard, and even then it is the names of the apostles, not the tribes, on the foundations. The implication of 7:1–3 is that the name of God is on the people from the tribes, not the names of the tribes brought before God. More to the point, perhaps, is Exod. 28:36–8, where the words ‘Holy to the lord’ are to be engraved on a rosette on the High Priest’s turban.44 But considerable effort is required if this is to yield significant cognitive effects. 41 verse 2 !/, verse 3 !0 , verse 4 !1 0 2 !1 , verse 5 !1 , verse 8 !1 . Harrington, Revelation, p. 98, notes the effect, but treats it as word play rather than deliberate irony. 42 See the discussion of ownership of property, including the branding or tattooing of slaves, in Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 456–9; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 197–8; Mounce, Revelation, p. 167. 43 See Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 91. 44 Note here the LXX usage of ! in this chapter and in Exodus 36 (MT 39).

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As well as the more general connotation of protection, a number of specific allusions have been suggested for the sealing of the servants of God. The first of these is to the event of the Passover (Exod. 12).45 We may ignore for the moment subsequent passages which clearly evoke the Exodus theme, as not having immediate relevance.46 There is nothing in this passage itself, either lexical or semantic, which requires or suggests the Exodus context, except perhaps for the fact that the sealed are to be from ‘every tribe of the people of Israel’ (verse 4). In Exodus 12 YHWH himself is to pass through the land and strike the first born, except for those whose houses are marked by the blood of the lamb. Here the angels are restrained from damaging the physical structure of the cosmos, until the servants of God are sealed on their foreheads. The two incidents differ in almost every particular. On the other hand, in a slightly wider context, we can note two motifs which do clearly evoke the Exodus experience: the description of the Lamb in 5:9, as having been slaughtered and whose blood has ransomed people to be a kingdom and priests for God; and the universal distress of great and small, slave and free in the face of the disasters of the sixth seal (6:15). In addition to the later Exodus motifs mentioned above it seems quite possible that the preservation of the people of God here would take a place broadly similar to the Passover in any overall Exodus structure of the Apocalypse.47 But this is a contribution to the cognitive effects of the whole book, not of this particular passage. The fact that John’s lexicon here bears no relationship to that of Exodus 12 means that his audience does not need to access Exodus to obtain optimum relevance in understanding the passage itself.48 The passage most often suggested as forming the background to Rev. 7:1–8 is Ezek. 9:1–11.49 But while the general similarities are obvious (a select number of people are marked on their foreheads in order to 45 See Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 120, n. 7; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Sweet, Revelation, p. 148; Caird, Revelation, pp. 96–7. 46 For example, the plagues of the trumpets (chs. 8–9) and the bowls (ch. 16), the power of the two witnesses (11:6), or the song of Moses and the Lamb (15:2–4). On this see Caird, Revelation, pp. 96–7. The New Exodus themes, echoing Deutero-Isaiah, are also largely in the future at this point. Casey, ‘Exodus Typology’, pp. 176–7, is thus largely unconvincing in arguing for an Exodus 12 background to the sealing. 47 As expected, John does not adhere to order in such a structure. The bowl plagues, which most clearly evoke the Exodus plagues, come after the images of Passover, Tabernacles, and the crossing of the sea! For Exodus typology in Revelation more generally see Ulfgard, Feast and Future; Casey, ‘Exodus Typology’, esp. pp. 155–71. 48 He may have used an intermediary source. See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 438–9; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 191–203; Kraft, Offenbarung, p. 126; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 141. 49 Beale, Revelation, p. 413; Harrington, Revelation, p. 98; Boring, Revelation, p. 128 (who adds Isa. 44:5); Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 91 (who also quotes Bar. Syr.); Sch¨ussler

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be spared punishment by the agents of God’s judgment), the details are sufficiently different to require more careful consideration of whether or how John is using the passage. In Ezekiel, the whole covenant community is in danger because of sin, and a select few, who grieve over that sin, are saved by the mark, whereas in Revelation, the world is in danger, and those marked are all of God’s servants (as we shall see below). The danger in Ezekiel is death by the swords of God’s agents, but in Revelation destructive forces are to be loosed against the earth, danger to people is just a consequence, and there is no promise that those sealed will escape death.50 Even the lexical choices are different.51 Finally, there is no parallel in Revelation to Ezekiel’s man with the writing case, or to Ezekiel’s response of prostration and intercession for those about to be killed. Given the general similarities and the presence of the sealing motif in the wider cognitive environment (such as Pss. Sol. 15 and Bar. Syr.), it is possible that John constructed his passage with an eye on Ezekiel. But either John or his source has made two most significant changes, transferring the divine wrath from the covenant people to the world in general (a movement already noted in studying the seals above), and replacing wt{; (= +/ ) with ! and !30 to echo the unsealings ironically52 . It would appear that, once again, it would require very significant processing effort, computing differences in general tenor, in circumstances, and in detail, before John’s audience could extract positive cognitive effects from an appeal to Ezekiel 9, which cannot therefore be considered a necessary cognitive environment for the understanding of the passage. But hearers who were familiar with either Ezekiel or the wider tradition stemming from it would not fail to notice the broad similarities. For such people, the most likely cognitive effect which the Ezekiel context would bring is the understanding, only implicit in Revelation, that the danger to come is God’s punishment of sin, and a sense of the security in the midst of danger for those who see things from God’s perspective. Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Sweet, Revelation, p. 148; Roloff, Revelation, p. 97; Caird, Revelation, pp. 96–7. Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 173, suggests Exodus 14 as well as Ezekiel 9. 50 Some suggest that they are marked for martyrdom, as we shall see. 51 In contrast to John’s !  Ezekiel’s wT… is translated by the LXX as +/ , a term John reserves for signs he sees in heaven or signs performed by the beast. While Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 119–20, allows the possibility of an allusion, he holds that John has changed the significance by the choice of words. Similarly in another potential background passage, Pss. Sol. 15, the righteous have a +/ on them as a sign of salvation. See Michaels, Revelation, p. 112; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 219. 52 See ch. 4, p. 71 above, for the way in which the covenant curses operate in Revelation no longer against the covenant community but against the world.

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Prigent, noting the differences between Ezekiel 9 and Revelation 7, suggests that the choice of !30 may be due to its use in relation to baptism.53 But there are a number of problems with this. First, the NT passages appealed to do not unambiguously refer to baptism. The seal in each case is the Spirit, and the specific association with baptism is a second-century development.54 Secondly, if baptism is intended here, it raises more problems than it solves. Have the servants of God not already been baptized? Why is it involved with a delay in releasing forces of destruction on the earth?55 What have angels to do with baptism? The processing effort involved in these questions outweighs any positive cognitive effects available. On the other hand, the NT use of !30 is indicative of a background of thought of believers being sealed as God’s possession by the Spirit. Perhaps even more relevant is the use of ! in 2 Tim. 2:19, with its implicit appeal to Exod. 28:36–8 and Isa. 44:5. This is not to assume that any of these NT texts were available to John’s audience as contexts for interpretation, but it does imply that the concept of God’s people being sealed has a potential sounding board in the selfunderstanding of first-century Christians.56 But understanding the seal as something which Christians believed themselves already to possess leads to some of the same questions as above. Thus while the motif may have been present in the cognitive environment, the specific use here does not fit easily into that environment. In summary, the sealing of the servants of God is an example of highly relevant information (in the technical sense). It has many connections to existing parts of the audience’s cognitive environment, but precisely because it is also different from those existing assumptions it produces new cognitive effects. The most relevant contexts have been found to be (1) the inner-textual context of the sealed scroll and its unsealing, placing the security of the people of God in dramatic contrast with the insecurity 53 Appealing to 2 Cor. 1:22, Eph. 1:13; 4:30, and perhaps circumcision as a seal in Rom. 4:11. See Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 120. For baptism as a reference see also Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Farrer, Revelation, p. 105; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 197–8; Sweet, Revelation, p. 147; Roloff, Revelation, p. 97; Boring, Revelation, p. 129. Against it are Mounce, Revelation, p. 167; Caird, Revelation, p. 96; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 143. 54 So R. H. Charles, Studies in the Apocalypse (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1913), pp. 126–9; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 459. 55 2 Pet. 3:1–10 describes a delay in the final destruction of the world for ‘all to come to repentance’. 1 Pet. 3:20–1 links Noah’s ark, the subject of a ‘delay in punishment’ story in 2 Bar. 6:4, with baptism. But we have no way of knowing that either was an accessible environment for the audience of Revelation. 56 The use of !- root words is not confined to the Pauline corpus. See John 3:33; 6:26.

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of the world in the face of God’s judgment; (2) the common social environment within which a seal was a mark of ownership, with consequent implications of authentication and protection; and (3) the early Christian concept of being sealed by the Spirit as God’s possession. The sealing marks out God’s people as his inalienable possession in the face of whatever cosmic catastrophes may come. The context of the Passover yields positive cognitive effects only when this passage is seen in the context of the whole book, and while Ezekiel 9 may well have been alluded to, it too yields relatively few implicatures. We turn now to the second question, namely to whom does  4   ' refer? There is an immediate connection back to the previous use of the - root in 6:11, where it is said that more 4  of the martyrs have yet to die. But the evocation reaches behind 6:11 to the opening words of the Apocalypse (Rev. 1:1). OT connotations there suggest two senses of . It designates John as a trusted representative of God, and identifies the audience corporately as those who owe allegiance to God as king, establishing a fellowship between author and audience by the double usage. I suggested that at 6:11 the use of 4  was a point of integration of the contemporary audience into John’s picture.57 The same appears to be working here. The martyrs are God’s slaves, but they are already dead and presumably do not need further protection from earth-centred disasters. But what of the living Christians? They too are God’s slaves (1:1), and they are the ones who stand in need of protection. There is nothing in this context which would lead the audience to limit the reference of  4   to any particular segment of the Christian community, such as prophets or even martyrs.58 But I have already hinted that there may be a temporal discrimination implied. It is the people of God who face the cataclysm of the sixth seal who need to be marked out as God’s possession.59 At the same time the identification with John’s audience allows no great separation in time. Members of the audience are integrated into the story of the pre-eschaton delay. Just as the church as a whole is portrayed as a martyr church though not every individual Christian would be martyred, so here there is no guarantee that 57 58

See ch. 4, p. 89 above. As does Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, pp. 169–72, arguing from 14:1–5, a passage not yet available to the audience at this point. For the widest reference see Beale, Revelation, p. 414; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 119; Mounce, Revelation, p. 167; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 200; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 140. 59 So Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 443; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 67; Casey, ‘Exodus Typology’, pp. 177–8; Garrow, Revelation, p. 21.

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every member of the audience will be alive at the eschaton, but the church as a whole is the eschatological community which is sealed.60 We can now bring the answers to the first two questions together to suggest some preliminary answers to the third. What significance would John’s audience, identifying themselves with the servants of God, have drawn from the reference to their sealing? First, the story of the people of God is in counterpoint with the story of the world as a whole. The people of the world, and in particular the unbelieving ‘earth-dwellers’, stand under the judgment of God revealed by the breaking of seals. The natural and political forces which shape world history are all under God’s control. The people of God have their own history, one marked equally by the intervention of God, but this time for good. The restraint of the winds and the seal of God together assure the audience that behind the cataclysm, God remains in control of history, and is just as capable and willing to preserve them by sealing-up as he is to demonstrate his wrath by unsealing. Here we have already arrived at the second proposition, namely that God’s people are marked out by the seal as his possession with the further strong implication of protection or preservation. But from what are they protected, and what does the protection guarantee? Since the sealing delays release of the four winds, and the global catastrophes they will bring are closely identified with the sixth seal, it is this final and universal expression of the wrath of God which is the storm from which the people of God are to be sheltered.61 But nothing thus far suggests that this protection means to be exempt from or physically survive the disasters. What is ensured by the sealing is that their status as belonging to God will not be affected by whatever happens. A guarantee of divine protection of the faith of the people of God through the trials is probably justified as a weak implicature, though the concept of faith is not prominent here.62 The sealing of the servants of God will be further interpreted not only in what immediately follows, but subsequently at 9:4, 14:1, and 22:4. These references, which may act retrospectively or on recursive reading, supply connotations of protection from demonic attack and identify the seal as the name of God and the Lamb.63 60 61

So Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 140. So Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 440, 443; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 66; Michaels, Revelation, p. 109. In favour of including the first four seals are Caird, Revelation, p. 97; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 93; Beale, Revelation, p. 404–9. 62 See Beale, Revelation, p. 409; Mounce, Revelation, p. 168; Garrow, Revelation, p. 21. 63 So Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 196–7. Sweet, Revelation, p. 147; Boring, Revelation, p. 128; and Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 174, find protection from demonic attack to be the central significance of the sealing.

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Verses 4–8 The angel with the seal is the last thing John records seeing in this vision. Now he only hears the number of those sealed. The people of God remain off stage throughout the scene. What would the audience have understood by the number itself? Bauckham is surely correct that the number is symbolic and yet not simply so.64 Symbolically it suggests the completeness and perfection of the company of the people of God.65 Yet there are further implications inherent in the make-up of this number. The number ‘twelve’ as symbolic of the people of God must have been a part of the audience’s understanding (twelve apostles, twelve tribes, twenty-four elders). And the multiplier of a 1,000, at the very least, indicates a very large number.66 But Bauckham goes further than this and suggests that the 144,000, made up of 12,000 from each of twelve tribes, brings connotations of a military census.67 The 144,000 are specified as & 5+ !(  678. The immediate reason for this may well be John’s Jewish source.68 But what does it signify to John’s Christian audience? Feuillet’s suggestion that John intends here to refer to Jewish Christians has not found widespread support.69 There is no context thus far in the book which would lead the audience to believe that John has a particular interest either in ancient Israel (other than as a source of imagery) or in Jewish as opposed to 64 Bauckham, Climax, p. 218. Bauckham’s entire treatment of these verses (pp. 210–37) is excellent and largely convincing. His view is supported by Beale, John’s Use of the Old Testament, pp. 25–6, 350–1. 65 See Roloff, Revelation, p. 97; Mounce, Revelation, p. 168; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 93. Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 69, suggests possible Mandaean influences. 66 Even a ‘boundless immensity’, Roloff, Revelation, p. 98, cf. Boring, Revelation, p. 130. 67 Bauckham, Climax, pp. 217–18. So also Knight, Revelation, p. 72; Sweet, Revelation, p. 149; Boring, Revelation, p. 131. See further discussion below. There is also retrospective confirmation that these sealed ones form an army. The next time John hears a number, 9:16, it is the overwhelmingly greater 200 million, of the demonic army following the release of four hitherto restrained angels (9:14–15). The parallels with our passage in the sixth seal are too clear and significant to be accidental. Bauckham, Climax, p. 218, notes the use of πla for a military division in 1 Macc. 3:55, in Josephus (JW 2.20.7), and at Qumran (1QM 4:2, 6; 5:3). But, reading Revelation in sequence, we are not yet using the information from 14:1–5 that these are adult male virgins. 68 See Aune, Revelation, pp. 438–9; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 191–4; BeasleyMurray, Revelation, p. 141 (who argues against Charles’ two-source theory); Krodel, Revelation, p. 181. 69 A. Feuillet, ‘Les 144,000 Isra´ elites marqu´es d’un sceau’, NovT 9 (1967), pp. 191–224, following W. Bousset, Die Offenbarung Johannis (KKNT 16; G¨ottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 6th edn, 1906), pp. 282–4. Against this see Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 440–2; Mounce, Revelation, p. 168; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 139; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 92.

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Gentile Christians. On the contrary, John has applied OT affirmations and images of Israel to the new people of God, composed of peoples of all nations, both as audience and actors. First there is the evocation of the covenant formula of Exod. 19:6 at Rev. 1:6 and again at 5:10, identifying as God’s covenant people both the actors portrayed within the visions and the real people to whom John is writing. Secondly, the Jewish opposition is said to represent a false Judaism (2:9; 3:9), implying that the Christian believers in the churches are the true Israel. Furthermore, at 2:14, 20 the danger of apostasy within the churches is presented in terms of two great apostasies of the nation of Israel – that after Balaam’s intervention, and that after Jezebel’s influence. Finally, the theophany of the throne room (chs. 4–5) echoes the visions of God recorded in Israel’s scriptures, such as Isaiah 6 and Ezekiel 1.70 The opening christophany of ch. 1 combines aspects of both the son of man and the Ancient of Days from Daniel 7.71 The slaughtered Lamb, an image replete with sacrificial and paschal overtones, is also the Lion of Judah, the Root of David.72 He it is whose death has redeemed, not this time a nation out of Egypt, but a people out of the whole of humanity. The combination of these references (which are all taken from passages prior to our present one) is quite sufficient to dispel the notion that this verse indicates anything in particular about Jews or Jewish Christians. Within the cognitive environment that John has created up to this point, it is clear that his audience must understand the church, in terms both of its own existence and of its relationship to God, exactly as the people of Israel.73 But if this is true, it is also not the whole story. Why the somewhat redundant expression & 5+ !(  678?74 And why the detailed, repetitive, and puzzling list? The previous identifications with Israel have all been short, pithy, symbolic, immediately scannable. The list in verses 5–8 presents a problem in terms of processing effort. What 70 Note also Exod. 24:9–11, where Moses and the elders of Israel ‘saw the God of Israel’, although the LXX has softened this, referring only to the place where God stood. 71 See pp. 122–3 above, and references there. Also Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, pp. 129– 47. 72 See Comblin, Le Christ, pp. 20–35; Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 162–79. 73 Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 140, correctly identifies the ‘servants of God’ in verse 3 with the ‘sons of Israel’ here. See also Sweet, Revelation, p. 147; Roloff, Revelation, p. 97; Boring, Revelation, p. 129; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 121; Borgen, Early Christianity, p. 287; W. A. Meeks, The Prophet-King: Moses Traditions and the Johannine Christology (NovTSup, 14; Leiden: Brill, 1967), p. 67. 74 The ‘children’ repeats the implicatures of ‘tribes’. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 460, suggests that this is a ‘characteristic redactional expansion’ such as is found frequently in the targums.

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cognitive effects could justify the processing required to assimilate this census? First note that, although the order of the tribal list, with its inclusions and omissions, causes serious problems for the modern commentator, this may not have been the case for the original audience.75 John’s audience would undoubtedly have obtained a greater degree of relevance because of their access to contexts of which we are unaware. What is certain is that there are further cognitive effects to be inferred from this list, justifying the amount of processing which it requires. A few comments on specific issues can be made from the standpoint of Relevance Theory, before we consider the general relevance implications of the list. First, the place of Judah at the head of the list fits perfectly into a context where ‘the Lion of the tribe of Judah’ (5:5) is present in the guise of the slaughtered Lamb (the seal-openings still in progress). Given Judah’s association with royalty (from Gen. 49:10, through the Davidic associations), there may be an echo of the royal status of God’s people, both actors and audience (1:6; 5:10). John’s audience may even pick up a slight irony in the prominence of Judah (674) among those authenticated as belonging to God, in comparison with ‘those who say they are Jews (67) and are not’ (2:9; 3:9). Taken together, both positively and by contrast, these inferences create another level of close association between Christ and his people, one which draws on the OT motif of the Messiah from the house of David. Judah’s prominence may also itself contribute to an environment which allows the blessing on Judah (Gen. 49:8–10) to be readily evoked (see below on 7:14).76 Less certainly, Levi’s presence may recall and underline John’s identification of the people of God, both audience and actors, as priests (1:6, 5:10, and subsequently 20:6).77 75 Problems with the list include the order (with Judah first and otherwise unlike any other tribal list), the inclusion of both Manasseh and Joseph and of Levi, and the omission of Ephraim and Dan. For some of the discussion see Bauckham, Climax, pp. 210–37; R. E. Winkle, ‘Another Look at the List of Tribes in Revelation 7’, AUSS 27 (1989), pp. 53–67; C. R. Smith, ‘The Portrayal of the Church as the New Israel in the Names and Order of the Tribes in Revelation 7.5–8’, JSNT 39 (1990), pp. 111–18; R. Bauckham, ‘The List of the Tribes in Revelation 7 Again’, JSNT 42 (1991), pp. 99–115; C. R. Smith, ‘The Tribes of Revelation 7 and the Literary Competence of John the Seer’, JETS 38 (1995), pp. 213–18; S. Goranson, ‘The Exclusion of Ephraim in Rev. 7:4–8 and Essene Polemic against Pharisees’, DSD 2 (1995), pp. 80–5; and the commentaries. 76 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 462. On the Davidic kingship of the Messiah see also Meeks, Prophet-King, p. 67. 77 Bauckham, Climax, p. 222, suggests that the role of the Levites in the Qumran War Scroll (1QM 1:2; 4:1–8) and literary developments of the story of Phinehas’ intervention in Num 25:6–13 (such as Test. Lev. 5:3; Test. Sim. 5:5) provide precedents for Levi’s presence

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Finally, the assumption that idolatrous association was an issue in some of the churches which received John’s letter (2:14, 20) lends weight to the suggestion that Dan’s omission reflects the association of that tribe with idolatry.78 Idolatry will again be prominent under the sixth trumpet (9:20) and especially in the story of the beast (ch. 13). If earlier passages (or parts of this list) have prompted access to the blessings of Jacob on his sons, then the depiction there of Dan as a snake may be a constraining influence.79 The tradition that the antichrist would come from Dan cannot be confidently traced back to our period and must consequently be set aside. It may even be a cognitive effect arising from this list, rather than a context which explains it.80 Stepping back again from the detail to consider the overall picture presented by the list of tribes, we must admit that the order as a whole yields few cognitive results.81 It may replicate an order familiar to John and his audience but lost to us, in which case it would have almost no cognitive effects even for them. Or it may make its point against a familiar order. Bauckham’s suggestion is plausible, namely that it is ‘probably best explained as in part an unsuccessful attempt to reproduce from memory the order of the birth of the patriarchs and in part the result of random rearrangement in transmission’.82 Yet the list itself does yield some significant cognitive effects. Bauckham argues that the list is best understood as having the form of a military census.83 A likely context is that of the censuses in the wilderness of Israel’s fighting men, and in particular the one recorded in Numbers 1, where LXX’s repeated formula & ( !( . . . %5 is remarkably similar to that in Revelation 7. There are numerous good cognitive effects obtainable by access to this context, not least of which is the reference to the leaders of the tribes as laer;ceyI ypel]aæ yvear; (Num. 1:16). in a military census. However, unless it can be shown either that John’s audience were familiar with this material or that it reflects general knowledge at the time, the role of such evidence must be questioned. 78 Judges 18; 1 Kings 12:28–30; Amos 8:14. See, for example, Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 121. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 67, suggests that polemic against idolatry may also be behind the omission of Ephraim, but this is less clear. Bauckham, Climax, pp. 222–3, and Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 463, consider the omission of Dan accidental. 79 Gen. 49:17, LXX: 9!; cf. Rev. 12:9, 14, 15; 20:2. 80 See Bauckham, Climax, p. 223; Sweet, Revelation, p. 149; Roloff, Revelation, p. 98; Mounce, Revelation, pp. 169–70; Caird, Revelation, p. 99. 81 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 464–5. 82 Bauckham, Climax, p. 220. See Farrer, Revelation, pp. 106–8, for a more detailed treatment which perhaps stretches the boundaries of relevance a little. 83 Bauckham, Climax, p. 217. See also Beale, John’s Use of the OT, pp. 25–6, 350–1. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 436, disagrees and sees only the second suggestion below.

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This is illustrative of the use of πla as a military unit, and is translated in the LXX as %% 7+.84 Further, Judah’s first place in military precedence is confirmed in Num. 2:3; 7:12; 10:14. And when John’s list is seen as a military census, the troublesome & is simply part of the formal style of the census and has no further or independent implications such as whether only some of God’s people are sealed, and if so, which. Aune, rejecting the military connotations, suggests that the tribal list reflects the expectation of an eschatological restoration of the twelve tribes, and this is also supported by relevance considerations.85 The OT theme of the restoration of Israel, together with the identification of the church as Israel, leads easily to the interpretation of this list as assurance that God will secure his people against the eschatological disasters. But why, if this is the main implication, are the details of each tribe with its number necessary? Bauckham has shown that the two concepts (military census and restoration of the twelve tribes), far from being incompatible, are closely related.86 He advances evidence for ‘the expectation that the ten tribes would return specifically in order to take part in the messianic war’.87 Among the texts referred to perhaps the most significant is Isa. 11:10–16, in a passage promising a second Exodus, which begins with a prophecy of the ‘root of Jesse’ and his impact on the nations of the world (Isa. 11:10).88 Here is another cluster of associations which strengthens the cognitive effects already obtained. Optimal relevance is obtained from John’s list of the tribes in 7:4–8 by understanding it as a messianic army, headed by Judah (and therefore, as a weak implicature, associated with the Lion of Judah, the Root of David). The people of God, John’s audience, already identified as the true Israel, fulfil the prophecies of the restoration of the tribes and at the same time are assured of the benefits of God’s ownership of them, in particular the security which this gives them in the face of cosmic and demonic disasters facing the world. The prominence of Judah emphasizes 84 For similar usage of πla see Exod. 18:21, 25; Num. 10:4. In Zech. 12:5, 6 hdW;hyîî ypLU aæ is translated ‘clans of Judah’ by the NRSV but  %% 7 by the LXX. The image is, in any case, a military one where victory is promised to Judah and to the house of David over all the inhabitants of the earth. 85 Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 436. 86 Bauckham, Climax, pp. 219–20. 87 Ibid., p. 219. See also A. S. Geyser, ‘Some Salient New Testament Passages on the Restoration of the Twelve Tribes of Israel’, in Lambrecht, L’Apocalypse johannique, pp. 305–10; P. Hirschberg, Das eschatologische Israel. Untersuchungen zum Gottesvolkverst¨andnis der Johannesoffenbarung (WMANT; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1999), pp. 129–202. 88 The promise of restoration of the tribes in Isa. 49:6 appears to lack military associations, until one remembers that the servant’s ministry is described in 49:2 using metaphors of sword and arrow. This is a much weaker effect.

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the messianic nature of the army, but at the same time the omission of any reference to an individual messiah figure means that the Messiah is here totally identified with his people. David rules through Judah. So understood, the detail and repetition of the list contribute precisely what is needed to the picture. The detail is necessary to establish the nature of the list as a military census. The headship of Judah is highly significant. But beyond that, no further processing of the order or of the names is warranted. 5.4

Rev. 7:9–17: the great crowd around the throne

This section, begun by the high-level marker : )   ; , & 4, represents a completely new vision, akin both semantically and functionally to the opening throne-room scene.89 John sees a great crowd around the throne in heaven, while presumably the previous scene (7:1–8) took place on earth. Here, for only the second time (after the fifth seal), the people of God are in the spotlight on centre stage. We shall examine this passage, therefore, for what we can learn about the identity of the people portrayed and how they relate to the story of John’s audience. Intertextual inferences about the identity of the crowd This 9% 4 is the first crowd mentioned in Revelation.90 In the previous view of the throne room there were angels numbered as myriads and myriads and thousands and thousands (5:11). Here John’s attention is seized by the innumerably large multi-ethnic crowd of people. The relationship of this crowd to the 144,000 slaves of God sealed in the previous vision is a matter of some controversy. Some see a clear distinction between the two with the 144,000 usually taken as a sub-set of the great crowd.91 Others identify the two groups.92 More convincing 89 See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 128–30. Also Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 68. 90 9% appears elsewhere only at 17:15 of those ruled over by the whore and at 19:1, 6 of presumably the same crowd in heaven as we find here. 91 Mounce, Revelation, p. 171; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 76. For Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 94; J. A. Draper, ‘The Heavenly Feast of Tabernacles: Revelation 7.1–17’, JSNT 19 (1983), p. 136; and Feuillet, ‘Les 144,000’, the earlier group was Jewish. For a good discussion of all views see Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 445–7. Aune, ‘Qumran’, p. 644, clearly distinguishes the two groups. 92 Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 123; Roloff, Revelation, p. 98; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 199–201; Krodel, Revelation, p. 184; Borgen, Early Christianity, pp. 286–87; Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, p. 47; Stevenson, Power and Place, pp. 251–7.

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than either position is the view that the two pictures represent two different views of the same reality.93 All attempts to define a relationship directly between the two images are unconvincing because the wrong question is being asked. It is not that John is being given a guided tour around a single over-arching reality and our job is to determine how all the pieces fit together.94 Two quite different symbolic representations of the people of God occur in two adjacent but distinct vision sequences. The crowd are patently not the 144,000. Both their number (< ( " " 4   versus $&  ) and their ethnicity (&   =  & ! &. .. versus & 5+ !(  678) are in stark contrast.95 The adjacent use of such similar lexical choices with different connotations cannot be accidental. John’s readers must have noticed, and searched for relevance in a context which explains both similarity and difference. The 144,000 represent the whole church as a messianic army, and John has provided clues for his audience to identify themselves with that army. Now here we find a different group of people, but the audience are again led to identify with them, this time by means of the description of the multi-ethnic nature of the crowd. This identifies it with the people about whom the twenty-four elders sang (5:9), a link which will be strengthened when they hear, at 7:14, that it is the blood of the Lamb which has made this crowd fit for heaven. The reference within the vision (5:9) we have already seen to be strongly resonant with John’s direct address to his audience (1:5b–6). So the audience are themselves the most direct link between the two groups in ch. 7. This still leaves the differences between the two pictures unexplained. What John hears is often reinterpreted by what he sees.96 Bauckham rightly suggests that the reinterpretation here in ch. 7 performs the same function as the earlier one, where John heard about the Lion of Judah and saw a slaughtered Lamb (5:5, 6).97 There the Davidic Messiah from Judah is reinterpreted by reference to his sacrificial death. Here the messianic army (with Judah at its head) is reinterpreted as a crowd surrounding the 93 Sweet, Revelation, pp. 150–1; Boring, Revelation, p. 131; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 145; Beale, Revelation, p. 424; Bauckham, Climax, pp. 225–6; Ulfgard, Feast and Future, p. 156. 94 See ch. 2, pp. 43–6 above. 95 See Bauckham, Climax, p. 223; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 466. They differ also in location and possibly in time. 96 So Sweet, Revelation, p. 150; Michaels, Revelation, p. 113; Garrow. Revelation, p. 21; Stevenson, Power and Place, p. 255. 97 Bauckham, Climax, pp. 215–16. That this association is not imaginary is confirmed by the very similar descriptions of the crowd in 7:9 and the people redeemed by the blood of the Lamb in 5:9. Once again, the work done in making the association is rewarded by an avalanche of cognitive effects.

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Lamb and not only sharing the results of his death, but participating in his suffering. The full impact of this reinterpretation requires that the whole of 7:9–17 be heard. But even at this early stage there are strong relevance assocations to be made with the earlier passage. The reinterpretation of the Lion by the Lamb was not only a reimaging of the focal figure, but also a reinterpreting of his relationship to humanity. The Lion was described in quintessentially Hebrew terms, the fulfilment of the hope of Israel, but the Lamb’s death has redeemed the whole of humanity. So here, the hope of Israel (in terms of the restoration of the tribes, headed by Judah) is reinterpreted as the salvation of the whole of humanity. Besides these co-textual contexts, the search for relevance finds another cognitive environment readily accessible, namely that of God’s promise to Abraham not only to multiply his descendants, but to bless all nations through him.98 The multi-ethnic people of God are the true fulfilment of the hope of Israel.99 This reinforces the self-understanding of John’s audience as the true people of God in the face of Jewish opposition. But it also leads to further related contexts which will be productive of yet more cognitive effects. In particular, connections may be made to the fulfilment of the promise to Abraham pictured in Deutero-Isaiah. In Isa. 49:6 we find a movement of the ministry of the Servant of the Lord from ‘the tribes of Jacob’ outwards to ‘the nations’, with the result that God’s ‘salvation may reach to the end of the earth’.100 At this point, such connections are weak implicatures for which the reader/hearer takes most responsibility. But we shall find them to be reinforced shortly. The set of terms which defines the ethnicity of the crowd is almost certainly taken from Daniel, particularly Dan. 7:14.101 The thousands and myriads standing before the throne in Dan. 7:10 are most probably evoked in Rev. 5:11–12, so this is a readily accessible context. In the Danielic throne vision, the ‘one like a son of man’ receives service from

98 Gen. 12:3; 15:5; 17:5–6; 22:17; 26:4; 28:14. The vocabulary in the LXX is supportive of this link. Note, for example, Gen. 15:5, 6> 5? .  " & +

  12   8+@ -( " 4. & ; AB 0 =  1 ; Gen. 17:5–6,  1    1&5 ; Gen. 28:14, &  +8    C  ! ( ( &  D 1  . See Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 123; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 466–7, and especially Beale, Revelation, pp. 426–7, 429–31. 99 As Paul had argued to the Galatians (and others) a generation earlier. 100 Although the LXX is significantly different from MT, a similar movement is evident, and its lexis is suggestive of links: & ;1  :1     &+(   /5 

  ( ) !) 7&0 & . )  7+  1?2  1&5   8&+ 1   !        0 + E0 %5  ( (. 101 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 466–7. This is yet another way in which later Jewish faith re-expressed the promise to Abraham.

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‘all peoples, nations and languages’.102 There is no specific mention of the ‘son of man’ in Revelation 7. But John’s early prophetic word (1:7) and his initial vision (1:13) have already ensured that Jesus the Messiah is identified with the Danielic figure. The two throne-room scenes (Rev. 5:9–13; 7:9–17) now picture the Lamb where the ‘one like a son of man’ figured in Daniel. But not only was the Danielic figure, like the Lamb, the object of the worship of the nations; he was also a representation of the people of God. If these connotations are carried over into Rev. 7:9, they reinforce the close relationship between the Messiah and his people, already established by the headship of Judah in the tribal list. First description of the crowd, Rev. 7:9b–10 The fact that these people can stand before God and the Lamb answers the rhetorical question of the earth-dwellers in 6:17. Those who can stand are described firstly by their garments. Three times in this passage (7:9, 13, 14), and nowhere else, the precise description of the garments given to the martyrs under the altar (6:11) is recalled. But this does not necessarily identify the crowd as martyrs, in view of the connotations of the white garments we have already discussed.103 They are not specifically linked to martyrdom, but rather are the typical garments of heavenly beings (for example Rev. 4:4), symbolizing the purity of those who can stand in the presence of God. This has ethical implications for the real audience (cf. Rev. 3:4,5; 3:17). Certainly the repeated use of  ) &5 so soon after 6:11 forges a strong link between the crowd and the martyrs, but the further description given by the elder in 7:14 will reinforce the ethical rather than martyriological implications, and we shall return to this in due course.104 To the question of the earth-dwellers, the first answer is that those whom God has made fit for his presence can stand.105 102 Th. : & 5   2 !2  " D 4 ; OG: 5  ) = +

( ( & ) 1 + & C *- " D  4. Note that although the wording of Theodotion is closer in the description of the people in Revelation, their activity is reflected by John in 7:15 using OG’s  40. 103 See ch. 4, pp. 86–8 above. The identification is suggested by Michaels, Revelation, p. 113; Slater, Christ and Community, p. 180. 104 Steinmann , ‘Tripartite Structure’, p. 72, following Ulfgard, Feast and Future, pp. 32– 3, argues that all of ch. 7 belongs to the sixth seal and refers to the interim period described in the answer to the souls under the altar. This argument has some weight (see my comments in Discourse Structure, pp. 130–1, n. 47), but the surface structure is against it. 105 Cf. also Dan. 7:10. This answer is noted by Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 225; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 468; Ulfgard, Feast and Future, p. 85. See also Roloff, Revelation, p. 98, who stresses salvation as the meaning of the garments, and Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 123, who also makes a link to baptism. Mounce, Revelation, p. 171; Caird, Revelation,

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If white garments are the expected clothing in heaven, the second feature by which the crowd are described is somewhat more earthy. The palm branches (! &) in their hands are a strongly evocative symbol. Consider some of the contexts which are potentially activated: (1) To someone familiar with the NT, the most obvious close context is that of the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem in John 12:13, where another 9% 4 welcomes Jesus with palm branches, the only other occurrence of the word in the NT.106 It is not necessary that John the apocalyptist’s audience possess John’s gospel, only that they be familiar with something like the Johannine version of the story, for this to be an extremely productive context. The quotation of Zech. 9:9 in the gospel story brings with it connotations of a conquering but humble king. Of these two characteristics, the palm branches emphasize the victory. (2) Closely related to this is the more general context in which palm branches were used as symbols of victory in Greco-Roman, and indeed Jewish, society.107 It may well be that these two contexts together are sufficient to obtain optimal relevance in Revelation 7. (3) The celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles required palm branches, along with branches from other trees. Lev. 23:40 does not make clear to what purpose the branches were put, though it seems that they might have been waved in celebration. But the only time the celebration is described (Neh. 8:15), they are used to make huts. Ulfgard quotes other Jewish sources to argue that Tabernacles is in view here.108 But in these sources, as in Leviticus, palm branches are only one type among many, and a reference to palm branches alone can scarcely attain optimal relevance in this context. (4) Jericho, the scene of Israel’s first great victory after crossing the Jordan, is several times described as the city of palms.109 If this is a live designation, it may have strengthened slightly the implications of the first two contexts listed. p. 101; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 96; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 146; Sweet, Revelation, p. 151, associate the white garments with victory as well as some expression relating to purity or righteousness. While victory cannot be ruled out, it does not have the prominence in association with white garments in this immediate context. 106 Matthew and Mark use more generic terms (Matt. 21:8: &5   1 0 ; Mark 11:8:  5). This is not the only part of this passage to have links with John’s gospel. 107 See the detail in Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 468–9. 108 Ulfgard, Feast and Future, pp. 89–92. This is also the view of Beale, Revelation, p. 428; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 96; Michaels, Revelation, p. 112; Harrington, Revelation, p. 100. 109 Explicitly Deut. 34:3; 2 Chron. 28:15. Jericho is implied but not mentioned by name in Judg. 1:16; 3:13.

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(5) Images of palms decorated Solomon’s temple and the temple in Ezekiel’s vision.110 Within this same cognitive environment is Ps. 92:12– 13 (LXX 91:13–14), where the righteous are said to flourish like the palm tree, being planted in the house of the lord.111 (6) The purification and rededication of the temple by Judas Maccabeus involved celebration with palm branches ‘in the manner of’ a Tabernacles feast (&+ 05 0 * ), because during the time of the feast they had been hiding in caves (2 Macc. 10:6–7). Simon’s recapture of the citadel of Jerusalem was also celebrated with palm branches (1 Macc. 13:51, but the word used there is 5F , not !/ -). Among these contexts, the one which appears to require the most processing effort is the direct link to the Feast of Tabernacles.112 By contrast the context of victory (1, 2, and perhaps 4) is very easily accessed and productive of good results. The crowd, accepted as pure before God, celebrate the victory he has won for them.113 But perhaps the most surprising result is the close association of palms with Jerusalem (1, 6) and more specifically with the temple in Jerusalem (5, 6). This means that the palm branches have a parallel component of meaning to the white garments. The context of being in the temple (5), with the palms as decoration, recalls the promise to the Philadelphians (3:12) to make them pillars in the house of God and to write on the victors the name of the New Jerusalem and the name of Christ. Once again a link is established with the audience and attention is further focussed on Jerusalem, and on the temple, or at least their heavenly counterparts.114 Thus whether or not Tabernacles is explicitly in mind, it is very natural to interpret the worship of the crowd in terms of the Hallel psalms.115 And although victory is a strong cognitive effect, it seems unnecessary to interpret 0 + explicitly as victory.116 John uses verbal forms from 110 1 Kings 6:29, 32, 35; 7:22 (LXX = verse 29 MT, but no palms there!). Ezek. 40:16, 21 (LXX only), 22, 26, 31, 34, 37; 41:18, 19 (twice), 20, 25, 26 (MT only). 111 LXX: & # !/ - 8, # &1 '  D G5 0H + 8 . ! 1   D I&0H &  / "/   ' - 8 . 112 Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 124, and Sweet, Revelation, p. 152, point, respectively, to victory and the rededication of the temple, rather than the Feast of Tabernacles as the dominant inference. 113 Victory is also the principal effect seen by Caird, Revelation, p. 101; Roloff, Revelation, p. 98. 114 The crowd has now had links made to the Sardians, the Philadelphians, and the Laodiceans. 115 So Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 124–5; Sweet, Revelation, p. 152. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 470, suggests the Hosanna of Ps. 118:25. 116 Caird, Revelation, p. 100; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 202; and Bauckham, Climax, p. 226, who rightly holds that victory ascribed to the Lamb defines its character in terms

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the &- root frequently and indeed thematically throughout the book.117 Salvation is the broader term, including victory within its scope, but going beyond to the total well-being effected for the saints by God and the Lamb. Salvation is central at two more important junctures: 12:10 and 19:1.118 And if Isa. 49:6 has already been evoked in this context, it is entirely appropriate that universal salvation should be the theme of the crowd’s praise.119 Identification of the crowd, Rev. 7:13–14 The worship of the angels and the other heavenly beings (7:11–12) ties this scene closely to the opening throne-room scene (cf. 4:8–11; 5:11–14), but otherwise adds little to our understanding of the identity and nature of the great crowd. However, John now guides his audience’s understanding explicitly by his record of an exchange between himself and one of the elders.120 Here the white robes are the focus of attention. The elder identifies the crowd by their robes, and then asks John about their identity and their place of origin (7:13). When John turns the questions back on him, the answers then come in the reverse order, and both achieve high relevance by a slight shift in focus. Instead of a place of origin, John is told about an event of origin, the great tribulation. And instead of a direct statement of their identity, the elder explains their white robes as if this is precisely what identifies them. Michaels helpfully suggests that the present-tense identification here (J   ) is a significant feature of John’s narrative structuring, reflecting the ‘things that are’ in 1:19. A reliable narrator identifies those whom John has seen and then predicts their future, entirely within the vision world.121 There is certainly a high degree of focus attained by the interchange in this passage with its tense shifts, and these, as well as the of sacrifice. In favour of interpreting 0 + as victory are Sweet, Revelation, p. 152; and Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 68. 117 Of the ‘one like a son of man’ at 3:21; of the Lamb at 5:5; 17:14. Rewards are held out for potential victors in both vision sections at 2:7, 11, 17, 26; 3:5, 12, 21; and 21:7. The saints are the object of victory by the beast at 11:7 and 13:7 and the subjects of victory at 12:11; 15:2. 118 See Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 124–5. 119 Isa. 49:6 MT: ≈r,a;h; hxeqîî r[æ ytæ[;Wvyî twyOh“læ, cf. LXX:  ;    0 + E0 %5  ( (. 120 Vanhoye, ‘L’Utilisation’, p. 473, considers that the question and answer form is dependent in some way on Ezek. 37:3. Against this see Vos, Synoptic Traditions, pp. 27–8. 121 J. R. Michaels, ‘Revelation 1.19 and the Narrative Voices of the Apocalypse’, NTS 37 (1991), p. 610. See also the similar constructions at 1:20; 4:5; 5:6, 8; 11:4; 12:5; 14:4–5; 16:13–14; 17:7–18.

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present participle, %* , are best seen as having narrative function within the vision rather than an attempt being made to relate their time frame to sequence in the real world.122 The identity of the crowd is tied to their coming out of the great tribulation. Aune and Beale both rightly stress the anaphoric nature of the definite article(s), ( ?0 ( 5+. This is something which the elder expects John, and John in turn his audience, to know about already. For Beale this points firstly to 2:22, while Aune prefers to see it against a wider background.123 A number of cognitive environments might inform the audience here: (1) /? is something that John and at least some of his audience are currently experiencing or might imminently expect (1:9; 2:9, 10).124 The anarthrous reference to great tribulation in 2:22 differs in that it appears to be punitive rather than testing (cf. 2:10). However, it may carry with it into the present context the implication that there are those who will succumb to great tribulation (like Jezebel), in contrast to the crowd, which has ‘come through’ it. (2) In the wider context of early Christianity, /? is the common lot of Christians in a hostile world.125 In this context the appropriate response is K 8.126 This terminology is also present in the parable of the sower (Matt. 13:20; Mark 4:17), where the result of /? is that some are scandalized or fall away. (3) The idea of a great tribulation is central to the Synoptic Apocalypse.127 Note the sequence in Matt. 24:9–31, following the prediction of /? for Christians on account of Christ, which will result in some being killed and some hated. Many will be scandalized and the love of many will grow cold, but those who endure to the end will be saved. Then there is mention of an unprecedented /? 5+, shortened for the sake of the elect, else no-one could be saved. This is followed by cosmic 122 So Allo, L’Apocalypse, pp. 86–7, suggesting that John sees the crowd in procession, relates the scene to the present life of the elect. Others, placing the whole vision at or beyond the eschaton, suggest that only the last generation of Christians is in view. So, for various reasons, Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 212–13; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 125; Bauckham, Climax, p. 226; and Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 147, who holds, like Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 473, that the present participle has past effect. 123 Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 473; Beale, Revelation, p. 434. 124 See the discussion in ch. 3, pp. 58–9 above. 125 John 16:21; Acts 11:19; 14:22; 20:23; Rom. 5:3; 8:35; 12:12; 2 Cor. 1:4, 8; 2:4; 4:17; 6:4; 7:4; 8:2, 13; Eph. 3:13; Phil. 1:17; 4:14; Col. 1:24; 1 Thess. 1:6; 3:3, 7; 2 Thess. 1:4, 6; Heb. 10:33. 126 Rom. 5:3; 12:12; 2 Cor. 6:4; see also Rev. 1:9; 2:2, 3, 19; 3:10. 127 For connections between Revelation and the Synoptic Apocalypse see above, pp. 54, 73, 126.

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eschatological signs and the appearance of the son of man in the clouds and the gathering of the elect.128 (4) This concept of an unprecedented tribulation can be traced to Dan. 12:1, though it is not there called a ‘great tribulation’.129 At that time the people of God, whose names are written in the book, will be delivered. Undoubtedly, in terms of a history of ideas, Daniel 12 is the source of the concept of the great eschatological tribulation. But it adds few cognitive results concerning the great tribulation to those which could be obtained within the traditions of the early church. Since Daniel 12 has not been a passage that has been recently evoked, to access it requires considerable processing effort for little payback.130 Any allusion to Daniel 12 is via what I have called ‘conventional usage’. On the other hand, the traditions of the Synoptic Apocalypse may well be contextually evoked, along with the more general context of Christian suffering in a hostile world. If this is the cognitive environment against which the audience hear this passage, then a number of things follow. First, the ‘great tribulation’ is interpreted as having essential similarities with the present and expected lot of Christians.131 It has an element of testing and carries the danger, currently facing the audience, of apostasy. What is required is faithful endurance. But, secondly, the great tribulation differs in two respects from anything that the audience are currently facing: its unprecedented intensity and its eschatological pointedness.132 Those who have come through the great tribulation may or may not have died directly as a result of their witness.133 They have certainly experienced intense persecution with a high chance of loss of life. But by implication those who have ‘come out of’ this tribulation and are before the throne of God celebrating 128 129

Matt. 24:29–31. Th.: /? L " 1  !6 J 1 +  =   ( ( E0  & & ; OG: L "&  8+ !’ J  8+ E0 ( '1 & +. 130 At least thus far. We have yet to examine the statements relating to washing robes. The suggestion of Bauckham, Climax, p. 226, that these allude to Dan. 11:35; 12:10 would be, if confirmed, the sort of extra cognitive results that might make the access worth while. 131 Beale, Revelation, p. 434, argues that John sees the great tribulation as already having started, and as continuous with the experience of Christians of all times. So also Mounce, Revelation, p. 173; Krodel, Revelation, p. 185; Cambier, ‘Les Images’. 132 Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Priester f¨ur Gott, p. 393; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 146–7; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 199; H. Schlier, ‘02 /?’ in TDNT III, p. 145; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 125; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 474. Bauckham, Climax, p. 226, traces the use of Dan. 12:1 through the Qumran War Scroll (1QM) to argue that this crowd is portrayed in terms of the warriors who emerge from the eschatological war. 133 Mounce, Revelation, p. 173; Beale, Revelation, p. 433; C. R. Koester, The Dwelling of God: The Tabernacle in the Old Testament, Intertestamental Jewish Literature, and the New Testament (CBQMS, 22; Washington: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1989), pp. 117–18.

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his salvation and worshipping him, dressed in white, are those who will have been faithful, if necessary unto death. The challenge is therefore placed before the audience to ensure by their own faithfulness that they are a part of that crowd.134 Nothing is said about those who fail to do so. Unfaithful Christians, certainly a component of John’s audience, simply do not appear in these visions. But the elder proceeds to describe how it is that these people have white garments. If their clothing appeared at first to connect the crowd directly to the martyrs under the altar, this description (7:14) gives the audience significant pause. The martyrs were given their garments, presumably after their death. The garments must therefore represent some kind of reward or status conferred. The crowd, by contrast, have been their own launderers! Thus, while the garments themselves appear familiar, the two verbs used with them cause significant increase in processing effort and generate a search for optimal relevance which will take us a little distance. 4 0 is most unusual in the NT.135 But it is relatively common in the LXX, and a number of possible connections are worth considering: (1) The prophecy about Judah in Gen. 49:11, where  8 and M also occur: LXX:  /  I 0H .  . "  &  L   !(

. . " . MT: wtWs µybI n ;x}Aµdæb“W wcObul“ ˜yIyÆB{ e sBeKI (2) By far the most common usage is for ritual cleansing from various kinds of uncleanness.136 Among these, several instances deserve special mention. Garments were to be washed in preparation to meet God at Sinai (Exod. 19:10, 14), by the Levites in preparation to serve in the tabernacle (Num. 8:7, 21), and by the army on returning from battle (Num. 31:24). (3) The most prominent metaphorical use is in Ps. 51: 2, 7 (LXX 50:4, 9): LXX, Ps. 50:4  /  *   (   &  ( N   &5*  . . . (9) O /  K0H, & &8,  / , & KP %*  & 8Q . 134 135

As suggested above, for John the church of his day is the church of the eschaton. Luke 5:2 uses it of the disciples washing their nets. The other use in Revelation (22:14) will no doubt exercise influence on recursive reading/hearing, serving to reinforce the ethical imperative which is slightly less focussed in the present passage. 136 For example, Lev. 11:25, 28, 40; 13:34; 14:8, 9, 47; 15:5 (and throughout the chapter); 16:26, 28; 17:15, 16; Num. 19:8, 10, 21.

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& 0 is rare in both the NT (elsewhere only in Mark 9:3 of Jesus’ garments at the transfiguration) and the LXX, where it occurs three times, to translate forms of ˜bl. The LXX also uses related words, such as & Q 30 in Ps. 50:9 as seen above. The contexts which we must thus add to the above are these: (4) Of the three uses of & 0, the only one which can and does provide some cognitive effects here is Isa. 1:18.137 LXX: &   & % , 1 &4, & ) R    K # ! & , # %*  & , ) P R # &*&&  , # = & . MT: WnyBil“yæ glWh…yI rm,ÉX,k{e [l;wTke WmyRIa“yÆ AµaI (5) Dan. 11:35; 12:10 both use forms of ˜bl (hiphil and hithpa’el respectively) to refer to the purifying of the people of God in the context of the great tribulation (Dan. 12:1). Only in the Theodotionic version of Dan. 12:10 is there any lexical similarity (&& 0) with our present passage. How might these OT contexts give rise to positive cognitive effects for John’s audience? Gen. 49:11 presents some problems of processing effort, and we shall return to it below. The primary connotation of washing one’s garments in (2) is of cleansing from ritual defilement.138 Most importantly, Israelites were required to wash their garments as a part of cleansing after battle, and before meeting and serving God. All of these are productive of good effects in the present context since the people of God have been depicted as an army (7:1–8), are here shown in the presence of God, and will shortly be described as serving him.139 What this leaves unexplained is the connection to having come through the great tribulation. Contexts (3) and (4) focus on moral and ethical cleansing. Here sin is the object from which people are cleansed.140 But since in both cases it is God who cleanses from sin, these contexts present the same difficulty 137 The other occurrences are Lev. 13:19 and Joel 1:7. Is it possible also that a catchword association between Revelation 7 and Isa. 1:18, based on ! & (crimson, Isa. 1:18) and ! & (palms, Rev. 7:9), reinforces the connection between these passages? 138 In view of what will come later (Rev. 14:5), it is interesting that sexual defilement is prominent, with ten occurrences of 4 0 in Leviticus 15 referring to cleansing from semen or menstrual flow. 139 See Mounce, Revelation, p. 174; Bauckham, Climax, p. 226; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 147; Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 167–8; Beale, Revelation, pp. 439–50. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 474, accepts Numbers 31 but is less certain of Exodus 19. 140 See Beale, Revelation, p. 436; Mounce, Revelation, p. 174.

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already encountered in accessing the context of the souls under the altar.141 Bauckham has emphasized the importance of the Danielic references (5), especially noting that the hithpa’el in Dan. 12:10 could be translated with reflexive force.142 Following the reference to the unprecedented time of tribulation (Dan. 12:1), this certainly adds to the cognitive effects which this passage brings, but there remains a question over the amount of processing effort needed to retrieve it. Dan. 12:1 leads on to much more information, most of which is irrelevant to the present context, so that it would seem to require considerable effort to connect 12:1 directly to 12:10, and even more to move backwards through that context to 11:35.143 Fekkes dismisses Gen. 49:11 from consideration as a major influence on this passage for three reasons which themselves lead us to consider that possibility more closely.144 First, he argues that the Genesis passage is ‘contextually dissimilar’ to the Revelation one. But so are many passages to which John clearly alludes. Perhaps only some from Daniel, Zechariah, or Ezekiel could truly be said to be ‘contextually similar’. Furthermore, RT does not require contextual similarity as a pre-condition for allusive reference. The essential question is, when the new context is added to the existing one, do the resulting contextual effects justify the effort required to do so? In this case the effort required is not great, given that the prominence of Judah in 7:1–8 may already have opened the context of Gen. 49:11 for the audience. Secondly, Fekkes asserts, ‘Since John has already used a portion of the Judah blessing messianically (Rev. 5:5), it would seem odd that he would then turn around and apply it to the corporate messianic community.’ Our investigation into the use of Daniel 7 in Revelation suggests precisely the opposite. The close relationship between the Messiah and the messianic community is central to John’s use of the son of man imagery. This may in fact be one of the most important cognitive effects of these phrases. Fekkes’ third reason is that the washing of garments in the blood of the grape in Genesis 49 ‘is not a purification rite but rather symbolizes the bounteous agricultural blessings of Judah’. This is so, but Fekkes’ argument assumes that the connotations of the tradition have remained static through time. Evidence from later 141 143

142 Bauckham, Climax, pp. 226–7. See above, p. 143. The meaning of Dan. 11:35 is itself difficult to determine. Is it the wise who fall, who are thereby purified? Or is it that the people as a whole are purified by the falling of the wise? 144 Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 168. (All quotations in this paragraph are from this same page.) I do not dispute here his main point, which is that Exodus 19 forms the most important context in which to understand the passage.

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Jewish use is to the contrary, as in the Jerusalem Targum on this passage, which reads. ‘his garments will be dipped in blood’.145 Might there not be a trajectory of use of this concept from the original, agricultural context, through the messianic interpretation of the Judah blessing, to our present text? This leads us to consideration of the final phrase,  D L    . The explicit expression ‘the blood of the Lamb’ only occurs here and at 12:11.146 But it is strongly present semantically at 5:9, and outside the vision narrative, at 1:5.147 These two preceding contexts have already been evoked by our passage and are surely definitive for the understanding here. The inescapable sense brought over from these two verses is that the people whom John sees around the throne in 7:9–17 are those who are able to be in God’s presence because they have been freed from their sins (1:5) and purchased or redeemed for God (5:9). This phrase thus not only resonates strongly with Gen. 49:11, but reactivates Isa. 1:18 and Ps. 50:9 (LXX), which we had left with a question mark. Having washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb is therefore not equivalent to having attained to martyrdom, or to heavenly status, but to having had their sins cleansed, to becoming God’s free people. There is a close identification of the responsibilities of the people of God with the work of the Lamb. The messianic community has proved itself fit to be in God’s presence, not firstly by their own deaths but by their participation in the death of the Lamb. Thus it is not wrong to find baptismal allusions here.148 Nor can we rule out eucharistic connotations, given the replacement of the ‘blood of the grape’ (Gen. 49:11) with the ‘blood of the Lamb’. Both sacraments symbolize the participation of the people of God in the death of Christ.149 Yet for John’s audience, the active verbs (=  , 4&  ) must force them to consider the ethical choices facing them in response to their own circumstances. The white garments forge particularly strong 145 Targ. Jer. Frag. Gen. 49:11; Targ. Ps.-J. Gen. 49:11. See J. Bowker, The Targums and Rabbinic Literature: An Introduction to Jewish Interpretations of Scripture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), pp. 278, 284; Trudinger, ‘Palestinian Targum’, p. 79. See also Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 475 Sweet, Revelation, p. 153; Beale, Revelation, p. 438. 146 On 12:11 see ch. 4, above. 147 See Slater, Christ and Community, p. 180–1, for links between the three passages. 148 As do Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 126, n. 35; Sweet, Revelation, p. 153; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 68; Krodel, Revelation, p. 186. 149 This must remain for us a weak implicature, given our distance in time and lack of certainty about the sacramental theology of John’s communities. If we could assume a similar understanding to Paul’s (see Rom. 6:4; 1 Cor. 10:16) or to that reflected in John 6:53–5, the implicature might gain strength.

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connections with the messages to Sardis (3:5) and to Laodicea (3:18). In both places the works of the church are found wanting because they are not what they seem (3:1, 17). Now here we see that the works that give access to the presence of God depend for their effectiveness on the blood of the Lamb.150 Both the moral transformation required of the people of God and the faithful endurance through trial and persecution are modes of identification with, or participation in, the death of the Lamb. As we have noticed previously, the vision itself portrays no ‘losers’ or ‘non-achievers’ among the people of God.151 And yet for the audience, whose shortcomings have been all too clearly pinpointed in the messages to the churches, the challenge remains to participate in this victorious community. Thus the combination of coming through the great tribulation and washing their robes in the blood of the Lamb produces a challenge to the audience to respond to the tribulation that is coming to them with faithfulness, refusal to compromise, refusal to fall into sin. In this way they will hope to be a part of the crowd around the throne. The blessings of this state take up the remainder of the elder’s speech. Further (future-tense) description of the crowd, Rev. 7:15–17 The elder’s description of the crowd before the throne shifts from present to future tense in these verses.152 From the point of view of the crowd itself, the difference is slight. That the crowd is before the throne of God and will serve him day and night are not two temporally separated ideas but part of a continuum. The difficulty comes in relating the tenses to the present experience of the audience. Are the blessings described here the present experience of Christians in Asia?153 Or are they held out as hope for the future beyond death, or in the final state?154 These questions are not easily answered.155 The crowd depicted here has come through 150 Here, as in 12:11, John appears to describe a synergism between the human effort and the results of Christ’s death. But while in 12:11 the two are coordinate (‘they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony’), here the blood of the Lamb seems to be a necessary prerequisite for the crowd to wash their robes. 151 So Slater, Christ and Community, p. 181. 152 Although there are aorists in verse 14, they are subordinate to the present-tense description, J    . . . This perspective is explicitly reinforced at the beginning of verse 15 with )    . . . 153 So Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 127; Mounce, Revelation, p. 174. 154 So Garrow, Revelation, p. 21; Michaels, ‘Revelation 1.19’, p. 610; Slater, Christ and Community, p. 181; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 438. 155 As Caird, Revelation, p. 103, says, ‘John is . . . fully aware of the temporal ambiguity which besets all attempts to relate time and eternity.’

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the great tribulation and is in the immediate presence of God. The elder’s )   suggests that access to the throne is dependent on successfully negotiating the period of tribulation and identifying with the death of the Lamb. This echoes the promises to those who conquer, especially those at Philadelphia (to be pillars in the house of God, 3:12) and Laodicea (to share Christ’s throne, 3:21). But reading on through verses 16–17, we find promises of provision, protection, pastoral care, guidance, and comfort. These relate strongly to Isaiah’s New Exodus theme and reflect a people still on a journey. And the relationship of these verses (15–17) to the final state (Revelation 20–2) is not a straightforward one. This casts the focus back on the present and imminent experience of the churches to which John is writing. It would seem, then, that John’s combination of tense shift and text choice results in a temporal singularity, a worm-hole in time. What at first seems like a future hope held out beyond death is turned back on itself to be a promise of immediate relevance to those still on the journey.156 The first element in the future-tense description is that these people will serve ( 4 ) God in his temple day and night. This is the first of only two related occasions in which John uses  40.157 It is impossible to identify a particular passage to which a word so frequent in biblical literature might allude.158 However, there are several common features of its use in the OT which may contribute to its cognitive effects here. First, and perhaps most important, it is the goal of the Exodus. ‘Let my people go that they may worship me.’159 But, secondly, it is also a double-edged word, one that requires a choice of object to complete its purpose. In Deuteronomy it is most often used of apostasy in the worship of other gods.160 Similarly, towards the end of Joshua, when the options for the future are being put in front of the people, the choice is to worship God who brought them out of Egypt, or to worship the gods their ancestors worshipped in Mesopotamia, or the gods of the Egyptians.161 156 Roloff, Revelation, p. 99, catches it well when he says ‘The elder . . . places the present situation of the church into the perspective of the future consummation of salvation.’ 157 The other is 22:3, which retrospectively links the crowd here to the slaves of God in 7:1–8. 158 It occurs 21 times in the NT and 109 times in the LXX, almost invariably translating db[, except in Daniel, where it translates the Aramaic jlP. This usage is so regular that it makes no difference whether John takes the concept from the Hebrew/Aramaic or from the Greek OT. 159 Fourteen times in Exodus 3–12, for example Exod. 7:2 LXX: 6 S-*  * 2 L    4+T  (T 80H; MT: dB…;d“MI Bæ ynIdub“[æyæw“ yMî [æAta< jLævæ. 160 Nineteen times, against four very significant times for the worship of the true God (Deut. 10:12, 20; 11:13; 28:47). 161  40 occurs nineteen times in Joshua 22–4, fifteen of them in ch. 24.

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Again in Daniel, although it translates a different root,  40 has this ambivalence, requiring moral choice. In ch. 3 it is used mostly of the worship of false gods (3:12, 14, 18, 28) and once of the worship of the true God (3:17), but elsewhere it occurs only in the latter sense.162 Particularly interesting is Dan. 7:14 (OG), already an active context, where all the nations of the earth worship the ‘one like a son of man’.163 Finally we note that  40 is also a democratic word.164 Only twice in the LXX is it used specifically of the activity of the priests.165 In the remaining 107 occurrences it is characteristically the response of the whole people to God and involves their allegiance and faithfulness. This characteristic is carried over into the NT.166 Anna was described as  4 4&  & '1 .167 It is one of Paul’s ways of describing his relationship to God.168 And of particular interest is Acts 26:7, Paul’s description of Christ as the hope of Israel:  U 0&5! '  &  H 4&  & '1   3 &  (. If this is indicative of a common first-century way of describing the stance of Israel, it resonates strongly with the whole of Revelation 7, where the hope of Israel, the promise of the patriarchs, is fulfilled in the worship of God by an immense multi-ethnic crowd.169 The location of the worship,  D D " , is somewhat more unusual. This is the first use of * in the second visionary section, recalling the only previous use, where the conquerors at Philadelphia are promised that they will be made pillars in the * (3:12). What is surprising is that, while  40 is primarily used of the service/worship of the people, * is primarily used in the NT of the sanctuary of the temple, the domain of the priests alone.170 The combination of these influences has 162 163

Dan. 4:37 (OG), 6:17, 21, 27; 7:14 (OG). Dan. 7:14 (OG): & *+ " D -, & 5  ) = + ( ( & ) 1 + & C *- " D  4, & ' - "  -  , V  "  (T, & '  " , V  " . !(T. Theodotion has 4 for  4. This also produces good cognitive effects, linking to the slaves of God in Rev. 7:3, and may indicate that John was aware of several Greek translation traditions. (See Beale, John’s Use of the OT, p. 62; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. lxvii.) 164 Cf. Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 126. 165 Num. 16:9 (of their service to the people); 1 Esdr. 4:54 (of their service in general). 166 Only in Heb. 8:5; 9:1; 13:10 is it used of worship offered by priests. 167 Luke 2:37. Note too that her activity took place in the * . 168 Acts 24:14; 27:23; Rom. 1:9; Phil. 3:3; 2 Tim. 1:3. 169 Luke 2:37; Acts 26:7; 2 Tim 1:3 demonstrate also that '1 & & * is no more than an expression of the ceaseless nature of worship, conventionally associated with  40. 170 While there is no sharp demarcation between * and * in NT usage, there is a general tendency to follow normal Greek usage and refer * to the sanctuary itself, and use * for the wider precincts, but including the sanctuary. See O. Michel, ‘ *’,

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several important cognitive effects. The activity that was the goal of the Exodus, and that defined the faithful relationship of Israel to their God, is now said to be the eternal occupation of the whole of the redeemed humanity. The multi-ethnic people of God who have come through the tribulation by means of faithful endurance, choosing to worship the true God alone, are thereby qualified to bring that same faithful service into the very sanctuary with all the rights of priests.171 We have spent considerable time on the statements describing the identity and activity of the crowd (14–15b), as these relate directly to the ethical imperatives on the audience which are the focus of our interest. We shall pass rather more quickly over the remaining promissory statements (15c–17). The promise that the one on the throne ‘will shelter them’ (&+   6 " 4) has led to considerable debate about whether John alludes here to the Feast of Tabernacles. Draper argues that it is an eschatological, international transformation of the feast, reflected in Zechariah 14, which is the basis for John’s imagery.172 Ulfgard also holds that there are strong links between the passage and Tabernacles, arguing in particular that in later rabbinic interpretation sukkot was equated to the clouds of glory with which God covered and protected his people.173 On the other hand, the majority of commentators reject this connection and find here the universal hope of God dwelling with humanity, with allusion to the presence of God among his people (focussed first on the tabernacle, then on Solomon’s temple) known as the Shekinah.174 Unless the Feast of Tabernacles was already an easily accessed concept for John’s in TDNT IV, pp. 880–90; G. Schrenk, ‘* ’ in TDNT III, pp. 221–83; Louw and Nida, Lexicon, §7.15, §7.16, p. 84; and the respective entries in BAGD. 171 Cf. Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 97; Beale, Revelation, p. 440. 172 Draper, ‘Heavenly Feast’, pp. 140–1. So also Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 98; and McKelvey, New Temple, p. 163, who brings together imagery involving the palms, the hosanna, the tabernacling presence, and springs of living water. For this last, cf. John 7:38, and also the coincidence of use of &+ *0 in the NT only in John 1:14 and Rev. 7:15; 12:12; 13:6; 21:3. 173 But Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 476, holds this interpretation as probably no earlier than the second century. See Ulfgard, Feast and Future, pp. 121–7, who nevertheless sees allusions to Tabernacles as secondary to the Exodus imagery (pp.150–8). 174 Targ. Lev. 26:11, ‘the Shekinah of my glory’. See Swete, Apocalypse, pp. 104, 278; Caird, Revelation, pp. 166–7; Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 166; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 127; Mounce, Revelation, p. 175; Roloff, Revelation, p. 100; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 148; Krodel, Revelation, p. 187; Sweet, Revelation, p. 153 (who also allows possible allusions to the Feast), and further references below. Koester, Tabernacle, p. 124, is a dissenting voice. Aune, Revelation, p. 476, refers to Lev. 26:11, an association which works in Hebrew but not in the LXX. For the presence of God in the tabernacle/temple see Exod. 40:34–8; 1 Kings 8:10–11.

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audience, it is hard to see how it would be evoked by this phrase.175 The OT passage most likely to be evoked is Ezek. 37:26–8, and there are many positive cognitive effects released by accessing this environment.176 The restoration of the whole of Israel (Ezek 37:15–22), their cleansing from apostasy (Ezek. 37:23), and the establishment of the Davidic Messiah as king and shepherd (Ezek. 37:24–5) precede the promise of God’s presence dwelling with his people.177 Yet if John has used Ezekiel 37, he has also transcended it. There the nations were only to know that the lord sanctifies Israel. John has interpreted this in the light of the Abrahamic promise to show the nations participating in that sanctification and sharing in the privileges of God’s dwelling among them. In verses 16–17 John comes as close as he ever does to quoting directly and extensively from the OT, combining Isa. 49:10 with a line from Isa. 25:8.178 The clarity with which the OT source is recalled strengthens the presupposition that the original contexts of the quote are important for John’s message here.179 If this is the case, then the story of the crowd (and, by extension, of John’s audience) is depicted in colours drawn from the palette of Deutero-Isaiah’s vision of a New Exodus. This ensures that the Exodus motifs already discerned are to be understood less in terms of Israel’s original and particularist journey from Egypt to Canaan via Sinai than in terms of the second, reconstitutive journey out of captivity, from Babylon to Jerusalem, with its internationalist implications.180 Further, the context of Isa. 25:8 brings connotations of a messianic banquet prepared for all nations on Mt Zion. Ideas from these contexts which cast light on the whole of Revelation 7 include Israel as God’s Servant (Isa. 49:3), prepared as a weapon for battle (Isa. 49:2), with a goal not only of restoring the ‘tribes of Jacob and . . . the survivors of Israel’ but of

175 This is unlikely. See A. W. Greenup, Sukkah, Mishna and Tosefta (London: SPCK, 1925), p. 5, and the discussion above, pp. 258–60. 176 So Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 476; Beale, Revelation, p. 441; Vanhoye, ‘L’Utilisation’, p. 473. 177 In this portion of Ezekiel, the promised king is always referred to as ‘my servant David’ (dwId; yDIb“[æ;  * 
), which, if it is drawn into our context, only serves to underline the links with the slaves of God sealed. 178 See Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 170, for a comparison with both the MT and the LXX of the Isaianic passages. Whether or John used a Semitic source (as Fekkes concludes) or a Greek does not significantly affect the implications of the quotation. 179 This goes further than saying, as does Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 171, that John ‘left them recognizable in order to emphasize their prophetic origin and thereby enhance their paraenetic force’. 180 Similarly ibid., p. 172; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 228–9; Mounce, Revelation, p. 175; Roloff, Revelation, p. 100; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 148–9.

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extending God’s salvation to all the nations of the earth (Isa. 25:6; 49:6).181 The passage from which John takes his quotation speaks of assurance of God’s compassion and comfort for, and vindication of, his suffering people as he leads them home (Isa. 49:9–13). And Isaiah 49 goes on to speak of the restoration and rebuilding of Zion, her adornment as a bride (Isa. 49:14–18), and the destruction of her foes (Isa. 49:22–6). It cannot be accidental that the themes evoked here are re-echoed in the final culmination, when, after the destruction of Babylon, the New Jerusalem descends as a bride, and God dwells both in and with his people.182 But if the ‘closeness of fit’ of John’s quotation brings strong implicatures about the importance of the original context, then the changes that he has made are also strongly relevant, and prompt his audience to ask about his own interpretation, or modification, of that context. Fekkes suggests that the addition of =  (twice) to Isaiah’s text transforms the promises for the wilderness into eschatological gifts.183 But while the complete removal of hunger, thirst, and environmental stress remains a hope for the future, the addition of the adverb can be understood to perform quite a different function. It stresses the fact that these troubles are in fact the present experience of the people of God. Such a promise then is for the audience, not the crowd, who are pictured as enjoying the presence of God after their tribulation. =  functions to bridge the gap between vision and reality, to direct the elder’s words to the Asian churches. The most significant change which John has made is to substitute     ) 1  *   / "  for the MT’s µneh“næy“ µm;tæ“˚æm“AyK;, or LXX’s )   "  &1 . . . " . Fekkes argues that it is not necessary to invoke Ps. 23: 1–3 (MT, LXX Ps. 22) or Ezek. 34:23 as contributing to the changes.184 But these links can scarcely be avoided. The whole sentence is given prominence not only by the fact that it is a change from Isaiah’s text, but by the picture of a Lamb acting as shepherd. This attains immediate relevance because the Lamb in Revelation has already been identified with the Davidic Messiah. And in Ezek. 37:24, a context which has been most certainly opened to the audience by John’s immediate previous line, we find ‘My servant 181 This strong contextual evocation of Isaiah 49 retrospectively confirms what were earlier only ‘weak implicatures’, that John evokes Isa. 49:6 in the sealing of the tribes (with Ford, Revelation, pp. 120, 126–8, and Kraft, Offenbarung, p. 131; and against Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 173–5). See above, pp. 141–2. 182 Thus this chapter imposes on the structure of the vision narration an orientation towards a restored Jerusalem, just as did the cry of the souls under the altar. See ch. 4, pp. 84–5 above. Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 172, n. 105. 183 Ibid., p. 172. 184 Ibid., p. 171. But for opposing evidence see Koester, Tabernacle, pp. 117–18, and especially chart 6, p. 132.

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David shall be king over them; and they shall all have one shepherd.’ It would seem a short step, one that required little processing effort, to access the wider context of Ezekiel’s divine shepherd/king imagery (notably in Ezekiel 34).185 We do not know if the ‘Shepherd Psalm’ was as familiar and popular among late first-century Christians as it is today. But the gospel traditions of Jesus as shepherd, themselves depicting him as the fulfilment of Ezekiel 34, may well have been part of the cognitive environment, and the whole stream of thought most certainly includes Psalm 23 in its scope.186 Thus where Isaiah has placed the Servant of the lord, as agent of God, John has placed the Lamb, the Davidic Messiah. But there is yet another implicature to be derived here. Disturbing the simple image of shepherd and flock is the assertion that the shepherd is also the Lamb, a member of the flock.187 Once again the organic link between the Messiah and the messianic community is a subtle pattern discernible in John’s tapestry. Reflecting back over this whole chapter, we have found this pattern woven throughout: the list of tribes headed by Judah (recalling the Lion of the tribe of Judah, but, by the lack of mention of the Lion himself, focussing on the people he represents); the ministry of the Servant of the lord, evidenced in the sealing of the servants of God; the homage due to the one like a son of man, and the recollection of the promise to share his throne; the participation in the death of the Lamb as the means of victory for the crowd; and now the Lamb, one of their own species, as it were, as shepherd of the flock of God. Both in their identity and in their lives and actions the people of God are a messianic people, inseparable from their Messiah. 5.5

War against the saints A ‘phony war’? Revelation 8–9

A number of tensions remain at the end of Revelation 7. Verses 1–8 depict the people of God as a reconstituted Israelite army, sealed for protection 185 So Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 477–8, who also points to God as shepherd in Gen. 48:15; 49:24; Beale, Revelation, p. 442; Vanhoye, ‘L’Utilisation’, p. 474. See also K. Nielsen, ‘Shepherd, Lamb, and Blood: Imagery in the Old Testament – Use and Reuse’, ST 46 (1992), pp. 121–32, on the reuse of shepherd images. 186 UBS4, p. 895, lists John 10:11 and Rev. 7:17 as allusions to Ps. 23:1–2. If the traditions reflected in John’s gospel were available to the recipients of Revelation, then the whole shepherd discourse, John 10:7–16, may have been recalled by our passage. Compare also Matt. 15:24; 25:32; Mark 14:27 // Matt. 26:31; Matt. 18:12–14 // Luke 15:3– 7. See also further NT references in Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 477–8. 187 There could perhaps be an allusion here to the ram-lambs who lead the flock in 1 Enoch 90:9–19 (see also Test. Jos. 19:8).

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from danger or conflict only hinted at. Verses 9–17 present a proleptic view of the people of God after any conflict is over, secure in the presence of God and the Lamb. But where is the warfare? Who are the enemies? Bauckham suggests that the crowd in 7:9–17 can still be viewed as an army and that their warfare is reinterpreted ironically, as voluntary martyrdom, like that of the Lamb.188 This may well be true, although I have argued that literal martyrdom is at best only hinted at and is not a necessary implicature of John’s text. Yet there remains a significant narrative gap in the text which is gradually filled in in succeeding chapters. And most importantly, that gap is the location of the life story of the real Christians to whom John writes. It is that story, told in colours of Daniel’s vision of the beasts, that we must examine before concluding this study. During the trumpet sequence, the people of God disappear almost completely from the scene again. Their prayers seem to hang in the air like the smoke of the incense with which they are mingled (8:3–4), but they themselves are invisible.189 And when some clarification is given regarding the purpose of the sealing of the servants of God, it is given as a negative image. The demonic horde, released from the abyss after the fifth trumpet (like the horsemen and the winds, under divine restraint), is told to hurt ‘only those people who do not have the seal of God on their foreheads’ (9:4). This presupposes the presence of the people of God through this plague, without giving any suggestion about how they fare. The sixth trumpet has two resonances with the sealing of the servants of God. The release of four angels to do harm (9:14–15) recalls the four who were prevented from doing harm until the sealing took place, and the appearance of the army of 200 million whose number John hears (9:16) recalls the much smaller army of the servants of God. But the two scenes do not seem to make any contact with each other, nor do the two armies meet in combat. The two witnesses, Revelation 11 In ch. 11, and 11:7 in particular, battle is most explicitly joined. Yet this chapter is atypical of John’s narrative in many ways and raises as many questions as it answers.190 Although the Danielic motif of war on 188 189

Bauckham, Climax, pp. 225–9; Bauckham, Theology, p. 77. The shape of the prayers, for judgment and justification, has been formed by the cry of the souls under the altar, 6:9–11. See ch. 4, pp. 82–6 above. 190 On the difficulties presented by this passage see Bauckham, Climax, p. 288; Prigent, ‘L’Apocalypse: ex´eg`ese historique’, p. 133; W. Reader, ‘The Riddle of the Identification of the Polis in Rev. 11:1–13’, in E. A. Livingstone (ed.), Studia Evangelica VII

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the saints is explicitly alluded to in 11:7, connections to the themes we have been studying are present from the start of the chapter. The two sub-sections, 11:1–2 and 11:3–13, are linked by the time period covered, which is itself a motif taken from Daniel.191 The measuring of the temple, altar, and worshippers probably represents the protection of the people of God, and therefore links to the sealing in 7:1–8.192 The two previous uses of * (3:12; 7:15) have referred to the location of God’s people (addressees and actors) in his presence; and the  8 was the location of the souls of the slaughtered (6:9) and the offerings of the prayers of the saints (8:3). As with the ownership declared by the seal, their relationship to God as his worshipping people is secure. But the abandonment of the outer courts and the holy city to be trampled by the nations represents the reverse side of the coin – the vulnerability of the people of God to persecution in a world opposed to God.193 The measuring is a prophetic symbolic action, following John’s commission to prophesy (10:11), and, although its fulfilment is not recorded, the following tale of the witnesses echoes the same two themes of protection and vulnerability. The introduction of two witnesses forges immediate links of relevance with the audience. John himself (1:2, 9), Antipas (2:13), the souls under the altar (6:9), and supremely Jesus (1:5; 3:14) have all been witnesses.194 The assurance given here is that faithful, prophetic witness of God’s people stands under the authority and protection of ‘the God of heaven’.195 The symbolic interpretation of the two witnesses by means of two olive trees, two lampstands, and then shades of the (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1982), pp. 407, 414; Michaels, ‘Revelation 1.19’, p. 611; C. H. Giblin, ‘Revelation 11.1–13: Its Form, Function, and Contextual Integration’, NTS 30 (1984), pp. 433–59. Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 575–632; and Beale, Revelation, pp. 556– 608 both have good sections and extensive bibliographies on this chapter. 191 Dan. 7:25; 8:14; 12:7. Bauckham, Climax, pp. 267–71, argues cogently that Dan. 8:14 is the most important link. 192 So Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, pp. 88–9; McKelvey, New Temple, p. 158; Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 180; Beale, Revelation, p. 560. See also Stevenson, Power and Place, pp. 257–65. 193 So Prigent, ‘L’Apocalypse: ex´ eg`ese historique’, pp. 133–4. Also Bauckham, Climax, p. 272, who rightly argues (n. 50) that the term ‘holy city’ cannot refer to an apostate church. McKelvey, New Temple, p. 159, suggests that the outer courts are uncommitted Christians who will perish in the coming crisis. This is unlikely as it would be the only portrayal of such people in the entire second vision (4:1–22:10). 194 Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, pp. 182–3, restricts the reference of the witnesses to martyrs. But while the earlier witnesses have all suffered death, except for John himself, this passage also closely links prophecy with witness. See further the discussions noted above, pp. 79–80, nn. 51–6. 195 The two witnesses are a corporate image, as will become apparent below. But all that is required here is that they represent the church’s witness. So Giblin, ‘Revelation 11.1–13’, p. 443.

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ministry of Moses and Elijah adds several more layers of implicature to the picture. The cryptic explanation ‘these are the two olive trees and the two lampstands’ is a trigger to evoke the context of Zech. 4, in which Joshua and Zerubbabel, ‘the two anointed ones’, stand before the Lord of the whole earth. If the witnesses are identified with these, then the community to which John writes finds itself once again depicted corporately by messianic figures, exercising the roles of priest and king, and secure in God’s presence.196 The links with these real Christians are underlined by means of the two lampstands, echoing the seven lampstands of the inaugural vision which stood for the churches (1:20): two instead of seven not because only part of the church is in view, but because it is the church as witness with the implication of legal testimony.197 Yet the purpose of Zechariah’s vision may also be drawn over, as a metalepsis, namely to assure God’s people of the completion of the rebuilding of the temple. Once again, as with the reference to the holy city in 11:2, the audience’s anticipation of the New Jerusalem, the city where God dwells in and with his people, is aroused. A further interpretive layer is added by the description of the period of prophecy of the two witnesses with motifs taken from the ministries of Elijah and Moses.198 Not only does the reference to the plagues of Moses continue the evocation of images of the Exodus, but the ministry of the church is by implication inherently prophetic and polemic. This is not to insist that either the fire or the plagues are to be taken literally.199 But they are nevertheless aggressive images, and we should note again that among the apostasies opposed by the two prototypical prophets were those fostered by Balaam (Num. 23–25, esp. 25:1–5) and by Jezebel (1 Kings 18–19, 21). And followers of a ‘Balaam’ and a ‘Jezebel’ were among John’s opponents in the churches of Asia (Rev. 2:14, 20).200 This 196 For the corporate and royal/sacerdotal nature of the witnesses see McKelvey, New Temple, p. 159; Trites, Witness, pp. 164–5; Aune, Revelation, pp. 598–603; Beale, Revelation, pp. 573–8; Bauckham, Climax, pp. 272–4. 197 So Bauckham, Climax, p. 274; Bauckham, Theology, p. 85; Trites, Witness, pp. 165–8. 198 See R. R. Hutton, ‘Moses on the Mount of Transfiguration’, HAR 14 (1994), pp. 104– 7; Beale, Revelation, pp. 580–3; Bauckham, Climax, pp. 275–6. 199 See Beale, Revelation, pp. 580–3, for a figurative interpretation in terms of proclamation of judgment. 200 Bauckham, Climax, p. 277, draws attention to Balaam and Jezebel without making explicit the link to John’s opponents in Thyatira and Pergamum. The connection is a weak implicature requiring two interpretive steps – first to interpret the witnesses in terms of Moses and Elijah, and then to recall that John has already named two opponents of these prophets in addressing the churches. But this information is available to John’s audience, and the increase in processing effort is rewarded by a strengthening of assumptions concerning the nature of the church which John has been building throughout the visionary narrative.

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continues the process we have already observed in this whole visionary account of sharpening the demarcation lines. Heretical or compromising Christians are not really part of the church at all. The church which enjoys divine protection of its witness is the church which is free from and opposes the kinds of positions represented by the two heresiarchs. But divine protection is only one side of the equation. The ministry of the two witnesses has taken place in the context of opposition, vaguely depicted as ‘anyone who wants to harm them’. Now the level of opposition is intensified and focussed. ‘The beast that comes up from the abyss’ appears in a cameo-role, typical of the way in which John introduces a character who is to be more closely described later.201 The definite article suggests at least that this beast is not unexpected. If Daniel 7 has been evoked as a context of interpretation, then a beast that makes war on the people of God is just what the audience are waiting for, and confirms the corporate identity of the two witnesses.202 Yet having established the link, John does not develop it at this point, and the audience must wait until ch. 13 for a fuller analogy. Instead he forges other links. By connecting the beast to the demonic horde and their king who came from the abyss (9:1–11), he dissociates the beasts which will appear over the following chapters from the ‘beasts of the earth’, among the natural phenomena controlled by the fourth horseman (6:8). But if the opposition to the people of God is demonized, it is also politicized. The four-fold description of the city where the bodies of the witnesses lie (the great city/ Sodom/ Egypt/ where their Lord was crucified) at once locates and dislocates the action. It locates it within the sphere of human, socio-political structures. Yet it is not one particular city, but ‘every city’ which opposes the people of God.203 The shock is that the holy city is identified with the symbols of pagan hostility.204 This interpenetration of church and world is the reality within which John’s audience live. And in this context the narrative of the two witnesses continues the process of differentiation, underscoring the fundamental opposition between the ‘kingdom of this world’ and the ‘kingdom of our God and of his Christ’. It cannot be coincidental, then, that the blowing of the seventh trumpet (11:15) signals an anticipatory 201 202 203

See the anticipatory reference to Babylon in 14:8. See Dan. 7:21; Beale, Revelation, p. 588. Beale, Revelation, p. 592; p. G. R. de Villiers, ‘The Lord was Crucified in Sodom and Egypt: Symbols in the Apocalypse of John’, Neot 22 (1988), pp. 125–38, pp. 134–5; Prigent, ‘L’Apocalypse: ex´eg`ese historique’, p. 134; Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, p. 184. See also O. O’Donovan, ‘The Political Thought of the Book of Revelation’, TynB 37 (1986), p. 77. Reader, ‘Riddle’, pp. 411–14, despairs of finding an interpretation. 204 See Prigent, ‘L’Apocalypse: ex´ eg`ese historique’, p. 134; p. S. Minear, ‘Ontology and Ecclesiology in the Apocalypse’, NTS 12 (1966), pp. 89–105.

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celebration of the resolution of this tension (as did the final scene of ch. 7). Perhaps the most important contribution which this section makes to our current theme is the identification of the death and resurrection of the two witnesses with the death and resurrection of Jesus. The location of the martrydom of the witnesses,  &  &4 "   + (11:8), is notable for several reasons. It is the first time that Jesus has been accorded the title &4, and it is the only explicit reference to the crucifixion in the entire book.205 It stands outside the symbol-laden vision narrative and communicates on the level of the audience’s relationship to Christ (cf. 22:20, 21). But both the & and the possessive pronoun "  draw attention to the fact that the death of the witnesses, the people of God, is patterned on the death of Christ their Lord. Inner and outer levels, audience and actors, are again related to each other in the implications of their witness. The same is true of the resurrection of the witnesses, which contains strong evocations of the gospel resurrection narratives, especially Matthew’s.206 Finally we note that although the ‘inhabitants of the earth’ are opposed to the people of God through this story, the ending where ‘the rest were terrified and gave glory to the God of heaven’ suggests a positive outcome, especially when interpreted in the cognitive environment of Daniel.207 Faithful, uncompromising witness results in persecution and martyrdom for the people of God in the pattern of their Lord, but also leads to their resurrection and to redemption for the world. Conquering the beasts, Revelation 12–15 Revelation 12 formally begins a new major text-sequence, covering the second half of the book.208 Yet spanning this structure, binding the two parts together, is the conflict already portrayed in ch. 11 and now depicted several more times (chs. 12, 13, 17, 18). The central verses of ch. 12 have 205 Of twenty-three occurrences of &4 in Revelation, fourteen refer to God, often in the form &4      &5 0 (1:8; 4:8, 11; 11:4, 15, 17; 15:3, 4; 16:7; 18:8; 19:6; 21:22; 22:5, 6). One is John’s address to the elder in 7:4. The remaining eight references are to Christ and reflect his death (11:8; 14:13), his victory and rule (17:14 twice; 19:16 twice), his coming (22:20), and his grace (22:21), each reference conveying a strong implicature of the close relationship between Christ and his followers. 206 See Beale, Revelation, p. 605; Prigent, ‘L’ Apocalypse:‘ex´ eg`ese historique’, p. 135. 207 Cf. Dan. 2:46–7; 3:28; 4:34–7; 7:14, 27. See Trites, Witness, pp. 169–70; Reddish, ‘Theme of Martyrdom’, pp. 185–7, and, especially, Bauckham, Climax, pp. 278–9; Bauckham, Theology, pp. 86–7, for a discussion of this theme. 208 See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 113–21, 143–4.

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already been examined under the theme of martyrdom.209 But they also contribute significantly to the theme of the identification of the people of God with the Lamb. And, just as in 11:8, the statements which are at the focus of this identification are also to a degree ‘de-mythologizing’. At 12:10–11 the war in heaven is reinterpreted in terms of the life, witness, and martyrdom of the community on earth, providing a point of identification for the audience themselves. The kingdom of God and the ‘authority of his Messiah’ are established by means of the faithful witness of the people of God, identifying with and participating in the death of the Lamb. And, just as in ch. 7, the salvation of God can be celebrated because of the victory of the people of God, not through violent warfare but through participation in the death of the Lamb.210 Furthermore, the echoes of Daniel 7 which surround the description of victory function to underline the symbiotic relationship between individual and corporate, the Messiah and the messianic community.211 Since Daniel 7 was accessed as a cognitive environment in Rev. 7:1, there have been a few allusions to maintain its relevance. But the allusions have been scattered and without narrative cohesion. The reference to the dragon making war on the children of the woman, 12:17, acts in two directions. It recalls Daniel 7 to active consideration, and links it immediately to the audience of faithful, witnessing Christians. Their experience is to be understood in the context of Daniel’s vision. Then, as the dragon stands on the seashore (12:18), the narrative sequence of Daniel 7 is released once more, to form the indisputable background for 13:1–7.212 This is highly relevant and productive of a number of 209 210

See ch. 4, pp. 93–8 above. The only place, other than 7:10 and 12:10, where 0 + occurs is 19:1, where the crowd in heaven celebrates God’s victory over the whore. See ch. 4, pp. 100–6 above. Also Bauckham, Theology, p. 75. 211 These echoes include the ten horns of the dragon, the dragon’s activity against the people of God (represented individually by the male child and corporately by the other children of the woman), and the time period of its activity. But at this point they do not form a strongly coherent part of the vision. See Table 5.1. 212 On the relationship of Daniel 7 to Revelation 13 see Beale, Revelation, pp. 682–730; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 734; Mounce, Revelation, pp. 249–51; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 298–301; Farrer, Revelation, pp. 151–2; Caird, Revelation, pp. 162–3; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 208–9; Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 83. Bauckham, Climax, pp. 424–8, shows that after 13:7 John abandons Daniel 7 and uses traditions of the eschatological adversary, which are also behind Asc. Isa.4:2–14. The suggestion (Beale, Revelation, p. 682; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 296; Caird, Revelation, p. 161; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 207; Day, God’s Conflict, pp. 62–87) that the land and sea beasts reflect the figures of Leviathan and Behemoth (Job 40–1). may explain something of the origin of the beasts, but the context of Job is scarcely productive of cognitive effects comparable to Daniel 7 with its explicitly political interpretive implications.

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cognitive effects because of both similarities and differences with the Danielic scheme. Daniel 7, however it originated, is clearly a political allegory, and there is evidence to show that Jewish interpretation of John’s day would have identified the fourth beast, with which most of the vision is concerned, with the Roman Empire.213 Revelation 13 is equally clearly political in its orientation. Yet there are significant differences. Most obviously, John has combined features of Daniel’s four beasts into one. Thus although the details of this chapter can only attain optimal relevance by association with specific historical persons, events, and institutions, Sch¨ussler Fiorenza is right to observe that John’s mixture of Daniel’s beasts allows the image to be applied to all political powers of all time.214 This decreases the importance of being able to make precise identifications of John’s historical-referential meaning. Thus the head which recovers from a mortal wound (13:3) may be Nero returned, or it may be the Empire recovering under Vespasian from the chaos of the four emperors following Nero’s death.215 While John’s narrative invites our speculation, for his late firstcentury audience the symbolic significance may have produced stronger cognitive effects than the historical reference. Behind the resurgent power of the Roman Empire (or any similar political structure) is the dragon, the ‘ancient serpent’, and the nature and activity of the sea beast is in every way a parody of the person and work of the Lamb. There is here not only a location of Daniel’s vision in the immediate historical context of the audience, but more importantly, a location of both in the spiritual context with which they were faced.216 This is borne out by the portrayal 213 214

See Beale, Revelation, pp. 684–5. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 83. Similarly Michaels, Revelation, p. 158; O’Donovan, ‘Political Thought’, p. 79; Beale, Revelation, pp. 686, 691–3. This view allows, but does not privilege, the proposal of Van de Water, ‘Reconsidering the Beast from the Sea’, that the two beasts represent political messianism in the Diaspora (the sea beast) and Palestine (the land beast). 215 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 737–40, for details on the Nero redivivus and Nero redux legends. Also H.-J. Klauck, ‘Do they Never Come Back? Nero Redivivus and the Apocalypse of John’, CBQ 63 (2001), pp. 683–98. For Nero in Revelation 13 see Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 737; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 83; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 303–6; Caird, Revelation, pp. 164–5; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 210–11; Boring, Revelation, pp. 155–6. For the recovery of Roman power after the chaos of AD 69 see Mounce, Revelation, pp. 252–3; Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, pp. 74–5; and Bauckham, Climax, pp. 442–4’ (although he recognizes the Nero redux legend behind John’s imagery). Michaels, Revelation, p. 157, points out that the interpretation of the beast as Nero derives more from ch. 17 than ch. 13 and that if John’s order of presentation were respected, there would not be such a compulsion to move from vision to historical reality. 216 So Sweet, Revelation, pp. 207–9; Roloff, Revelation, p. 155; Beale, Revelation, p. 686; Minear, I Saw a New Earth, pp. 113–27, 235–60. See also O’Donovan, ‘Political Thought’, p. 80.

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in the second vision (13:11–17) of Roman state religion and the cult of the emperor as a false religion and parody of the true faith.217 John’s use of the present tense in this section (13:12–17) reinforces the implicature that this represents the challenges faced by his current audience.218 This, together with the prominence of idolatry, allows the possibility that, behind the explicit depiction of the imperial cult, there is a subtle allusion here to John’s opponents in the churches who seem to have advocated participation in local practices with idolatrous connections.219 Later texts confirm this allusion, pairing the beast with the ‘false prophet’ (16:13; 19:20; 20:10), and thus recalling Jezebel’s pretensions (2:20). While these were not available on the audience’s first hearing ch. 13, they would have exercised both retrospective and recursive strengthening of the link between the second beast and John’s opponents. Just as we saw in ch. 11 though by different means, John appears to be alluding to his opponents within the churches but depicting them on the side of the devil, drawing the line of demarcation yet more clearly.220 Unlike Daniel 7, where the focal interest is on the ‘holy ones’ (the threat of the beast, their vindication and rule), Revelation 13 is on the surface more interested in the interaction of the beasts with the ‘inhabitants of the earth’, and the people of God feature in the margins of the story. They are the object of the beasts’ activities in verses 6, 7a, and 15b, and are alluded to in verses 8, 17 by reference to their opposites.221 On the other hand, 12:17 has established a presumption that the situation of the obedient, witnessing community is going to be addressed. And John ensures that 217 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 773–9; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 216; Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, p. 29; Bauckham, Climax, p. 445; p. J. J. Botha, ‘God, Emperor Worship and Society: Contemporary Experiences and the Book of Revelation’, Neot 22 (1988), pp. 96–8; S. Friesen, ‘Ephesus: A Key to a Vision in Revelation’, BAR 19 (1993), pp. 24–37. S. J. Scherrer, ‘Signs and Wonders in the Imperial Cult: A New Look at a Roman Religious Institution in the Light of Rev. 13:13–15’, JBL 103 (1984), pp. 599–610, argues that the actions of the second beast reflect use of technological ‘miracles’ in the imperial cult in Asia. So also Beale, Revelation, p. 711; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 85–6. 218 So V. P. Cruz, ‘The Beatitudes of the Apocalypse: Eschatology and Ethics’, in M. Shuster and R. Muller (eds.), Perspectives in Christology: Essays in Honour of Paul K. Jewett (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1991), p. 270. 219 See the reference to Pergamum in Sweet, Revelation, p. 208, but more especially Garrow, Revelation, pp. 89, 91. See also Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 86; Boring, Revelation, p. 157. 220 See pp. 162–3 above and deSilva, ‘Image of the Beast’, p. 207. 221 The loss of focus on the saints is even more marked in the text of P47, which avoids the ambiguity in 13:6 (see n. 223 below), and (along with A C P 2053) omits the first phrase of verse 7. N. W. Lund, Chiasmus in the New Testament: A Study in Form and Function of Chiastic Structures (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1992, Reprint of 1942 edition, University of North Carolina Press), pp. 403–4, provides structural evidence to support the inclusion of 7a.

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his audience will identify with his narrative and thus strengthens the assumption of relevance by inferential links, to the words of Christ to the audience in chs. 2–3 and to prior depictions of the people of God, which we shall examine in more detail.222 Rev. 13:6 states that the blasphemy of the sea beast is directed against three objects: God, his name, and . &+ . " ,   D " D &+  .223 God’s dwelling is in apposition to those who dwell in heaven. The most recent mention of heaven-dwellers (12:12) is in contrast to ‘the earth and the sea’ and suggests that the reference is to angels and perhaps those Christians, including the martyrs, who are already dead.224 But a number of relevance links modify this identification. First is the recollection of the pronouncement in 7:15, that  &8    *  &+  6 " 4. God’s dwelling is his people.225 Secondly, the rejoicing of the heaven-dwellers in 12:12 is due to the victory achieved by the witness, to the point of death, of the people of God on earth. Thirdly, there is contrast, already in ch. 12 but most marked in ch. 13, between heaven-dwellers and earth-dwellers. The latter are clearly unbelieving humanity. So the former are the believing community.226 The Christians in Smyrna were said to be facing !+ from Jews (2:9). The reference in 13:6 warns the audience to expect this not only from Jews but from the Roman state, but it also assures them that slander against them is slander against God. Like the blasphemous words of the beast, the war on the saints (13:7) is a motif directly out of Daniel’s vision (Dan. 7:21).227 Whatever the 222 These include references to God’s &+ 8 (verse 6, cf. 7:15), the beast conquering the saints (verse 7, cf. 2:7 etc.; 12:11), the Lamb’s book of life (verse 8, cf. 3:5), the mark of the beast (verse 16, cf. 7:3), and the pervasive references to idolatry (verses 4, 8, 12, 14f., cf. 2:14, 20). 223 This reading is supported by, among others, a* A C fam 1611. The insertion of & between the two phrases in a2 025 046* 051 2023 and many versions and also the reading of P47 ( D " 0H for the second phrase) are both described by B. M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft/UBS, 2nd edn, 1994), p. 674, as attempts to ‘alleviate the strained syntax’. Farrer, Revelation, p. 153, follows P47 but arrives at much the same conclusion as I do. 224 So Sweet, Revelation, p. 211; Mounce, Revelation, p. 255. Mounce allows that it may refer to the church ‘viewed ideally as seated in heavenly places’ and Sweet helpfully points to the analogue, given the connection to Daniel, between the hosts of heaven and the army of the saints. 225 Cf. 11:1–2. This will be confirmed emphatically in 21:3, the only other verse where the noun and the verb co-occur. W. Michaelis, ‘&+ 8’ in TDNT VII, pp. 377–8, argues that 13:6 directly connects to 7:15 but still maintains that it represents the perfected saints in heaven. 226 Similarly Beale, Revelation, p. 697; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 747; Caird, Revelation, p. 167. 227 The omission of & *+ " D ( *  )  N0 & &( " 4 from P47 A C P 2053 is most probably due to homoioarcton. See Metzger, Textual Commentary, p. 674.

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interpretation of the
 in Daniel’s context, here they are clearly the people of God, the ‘rest of [the woman’s] children, those who keep the commandments of God and hold the testimony of Jesus’ (12:17). But John has chosen (as at 11:6) to use &50 to express the victory of the beast, in contrast to any of the extant sources for Daniel 7.228 This is a highly relevant change because it evokes one of the constant themes of chs. 2–3, the challenge to conquer, as well as the immediate previous reference to the victory of the ‘brethren’ over the dragon (12:11). The audience, though encouraged to see their experience in the light of Daniel 7, are left with a tension between their need to conquer and the fact that they are here portrayed as conquered by the resurgent power of the Roman state. The beast from the sea is not only to have authority over all the peoples of the earth, in blatant parody of Daniel’s one like a son of man (Dan. 7:14), his ‘holy ones of the most high’ (Dan. 7:28), and the Lamb (Rev. 5:9; 7:9; 11:15; cf. 11:9), but is to receive the (apparently voluntary) worship of all the earth-dwellers. These are further described by the phrase J " P  9  "   D 0H ( 30(     !1   & ( &* (13:8b). The explicature of this phrase is a proposition about those who worship the beast. But, however John’s tortured syntax is untangled, there is also a strong implicature, namely that those whose names are in the Lamb’s book of life will not worship the beast.229 There is ambiguity as to which verb the temporal phrase  & ( &* modifies. The similar phrase in 17:8 omits the reference to the Lamb that was slain and suggests to some that it is the writing, or rather not writing, which is from the foundation of the world.230 On the other hand, the distance between phrase and modified verb in this analysis leads others to conclude that John is here speaking of the Lamb as having been slain before the foundation of the world.231 Since 17:8 cannot influence the audience’s initial understanding, the proximity of 228 Dan. 7:21: Aram.lky; Th., %40; OG, *0. Dan. 7:25: Aram., alb Th., *0; OG, &  0. 229 The further implicature that those whose names are in the book are not earth-dwellers strengthens the interpretation of ‘those that dwell in heaven’ (verse 6) suggested above. The singular relative pronoun, J, where a plural is expected, is taken by Mounce, Revelation, p. 256, to emphasize individual responsibility. This is at least more likely than Michaels’ suggestion (Interpreting, pp. 92–3; Revelation, p. 159) that it relates to the beast, not to its worshippers, or Aune’s (Revelation 6–16, p. 747) that the phrase is interpolated from 17:8. 230 So Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 353; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 746–7; Farrer, Revelation, p. 154; C. R. Smith, ‘The Book of Life’, GTJ 6 (1985), pp. 219–30; Michaels, Revelation, pp. 158–9. Michaels, Interpreting, pp. 92–4, finds that ‘the word order of 13:8 points in one direction and the analogy between 13:8 and 17:8b in another’. 231 Cf. 1 Pet. 1:18–20. See Beale, Revelation, p. 702; Sweet, Revelation, p. 212; Mounce, Revelation, p. 256; Caird, Revelation, p. 168; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 214.

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!1  suggests that this is how they would read it. But even if a subsequent reading led the other way, relevance relations forged by the ‘Lamb’s book of life’ ensure that there is no rigidly deterministic predestination (for those whose names are or are not in the book) in this reading. Daniel 7 contains a reference to books which are opened and are presumably the basis for judgment given against the beasts and in favour of the saints (Dan. 7:10–12, 26–7). But nothing is said about the rest of humanity, except that they will serve the one like a son of man (Dan. 7:14), and that allusion is not a particularly good fit to this context. Much more to the point is the promise of the risen Christ, the one like a son of man, to the church in Sardis that those who conquer will not have their names blotted out of the book of life (Rev. 3:5).232 The recollection of this verse in the present context not only underlines the identification of the Lamb with the one like a son of man, but reinforces the challenge which faces the churches listening to the story of the beast. They have just been told that the beast will conquer them. Now they are reminded that it is the conquerors whose names will not be blotted out of the book of life.233 The combination of the two contexts (3:5 and 13:8) suggests that conquering involves not worshipping the beast. At this point, for the first time since 1:9, John leaves vision-narration mode and addresses his audience directly. He does this in three stages: first with the ‘hearing forumula’, then a pair of elliptical lines of verse, and finally a deictic reference to endurance and faith.234 The form of the ‘hearing formula’ is slightly different from that repeatedly encountered in the messages to the churches.235 But the allusion is so clear that it almost 232 Rev. 3:5 is a much more accessible context than those which may lie behind it. Thus while Dan. 12:1 and Ps. 69:28 (Beale, Revelation, p. 701), or Exod. 32:32–3 (Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 187–9) are possible extensions to the context of Rev. 13:7, they require much greater processing effort and are unlikely to have been directly evoked. 233 The reverse possibility, that names may yet be written there, is obtained by reference to the Danielic context already mentioned. When the description of the New Jerusalem is reached, the nations and the kings of the earth are found in the city, where ‘only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life’ may enter (21:24–7). See Sweet, Revelation, p. 211. 234 The final line stands quite separate and is introduced by #   , as though pointing from outside the text to something in it. For the change in communication situation which these verses demand see Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 136–7, and Beale, John’s Use of the OT, p. 312, n. 43; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 84; Caird, Revelation, pp. 169–70; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 214; R. B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament: A Contemporary Introduction to New Testament Ethics (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1996), p. 178. 235 The change (SI  =% for W A =%0 ) makes the formula parallel the following two lines. See Enroth, ‘Hearing Formula’, for the relationship of these forms to that encountered in the Synoptic gospels.

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certainly results in bringing over into the present context two features of the way the formula is used in chs. 2–3. First, the call is to hear ‘what the Spirit says to the churches’. Here within the mytho-symbolic vision of the beasts is the Spirit-inspired voice of prophecy, not only in the direct address that follows, but in the story itself to which it points. This is paraenesis, as truly as are the messages to the churches.236 But further, the call to hear in chs. 2–3 was closely tied in each case to the promise to the overcomers. If this association ‘bleeds over’ into ch. 13, then we have another piece in the puzzle of how the people of God are to overcome in the midst of defeat, to which we shall return shortly. The first part of verse 10 is compressed and complex, and has led to variations in the textual tradition, resulting in part from attempts to make sense of either syntax or semantics. The clear evocation of Jer. 15:2 and Jer. 43:11 (LXX 50:11) provides a backdrop against which the text and the meaning can be evaluated. The reading of Codex Alexandrinus in the first line (I   %0 2  %0 K5) provides an echo of the Jeremiah passages in a manner consistent with John’s typical usage.237 The second line is much more problematical. Even the reading of Alexandrinus (I   %+H &  (  "  %+H &  (Q

) is a considerable expansion on Jeremiah’s phrase, although it retains the same sense.238 Most variants (the vast majority of manuscripts) turn this into an expression of the lex talionis, similar to a saying of Jesus.239 Both types of reading might produce good cognitive effects in the immediate context. The text of A is a synonymous or additive parallel to the first line, expressing the certainty of divine predetermination and encouraging acceptance of suffering. The alternative can be taken, by analogy with Matt. 26:52, as a prohibition on the use of force to oppose persecutors.240 236 See Enroth, ‘Hearing Formula’, pp. 607–8, who distinguishes the paraenetic here from the esoteric or noetic call in 13:18. 237 That is, close but not exact. The variants are explicable on the assumption of (1) an early haplography which omitted one of the occurrences of  %0 and resulted not only in the text followed by P47 a C P 046 and others, but also the unintelligible reading of 051 and many Byzantine manuscripts, =% %0 K5; (2) attempts to fill out the ellipsis of the first phrase. See Metzger, Textual Commentary, p. 674. The variants arising from (1) affect the meaning little. Some of those arising from (2) turn it into an example of lex talionis, which we shall see is absent from the context. 238 Jer. 15:2 MT: br,j,læ br,j,læ bv,aÄ; LXX:   5% 2  5% . 239 Matt. 26:52, 5  )  *  5%  %+H  . In favour of the reading of A are Metzger, Textual Commentary, p. 675; Charles, Revelation, vol. I, p. 355; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 750; Beale, Revelation, p. 706. Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 307, and Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 214, prefer the active variant of C 051*. 240 So Caird, Revelation, pp. 169–70; and Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, p. 80 (who contrasts this attitude with that of the Jews). This is better than Farrer, Revelation, p. 154, who suggests that these lines describe what will happen to the followers of the beast.

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But for Asian Christians in the late first century, violent reaction to the authorities was not an option, and therefore relevance fails.241 While it might appear that the existence of the dominical saying would provide all the context required to make sense of the alternative reading here, it actually works to the contrary. Why would a later copyist (such as the scribe of A), who would be even more likely to know and perhaps possess a written text of the gospel, change our text to something whose grammar was obscure and which, formally, matches neither the first half of the verse nor the original model in Jeremiah?242 The immediate relevance created by allusion to Matt. 26:52 would almost certainly prevent such a change. It seems best, then, to accept the readings of Alexandrinus for both lines and to take the whole as an assurance that despite the arrogant and anti-Christian activities of the state or its agents, the trials which Christians will face, whether or not they lead to death, are part of the plan and purpose of God.243 This is also congruent with the ‘divine passive’ which pervades the whole of the two visions.244 John’s aside to his audience finishes with the statement, WX   ' K . & '    N0 . This compact saying should probably be taken as having reference both to the immediate communication between author and audience and to the story of the fate of God’s people in the vision of the beasts, as both contexts are productive of very good cognitive effects. On the one hand, the response of the saints in the vision, against whom the beast makes war, is nothing other than faithful endurance. Yet we have been told nothing about what they did except that, by implication, they refused to worship the beast. On the other hand, the emphatic assurance to the audience that suffering and death are part of God’s plan adds to the recollection from the messages to the churches that endurance and faith in the face of opposition are commended by Christ.245 241 So Roloff, Revelation, pp. 158–9. Michaels, Revelation, pp. 159–60, emphasizes the pacifist response called for in this verse as a counter to the violence and armed rebellion which Revelation has sparked through the centuries. 242 A change in either of these directions might be expected, but there is no manuscript evidence for them. 243 Beale, Revelation, p. 703, and Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 749, both relate this passage to the suffering of the people of God. But Beale’s comparison with 6:2–11 does not hold. 244 *+ " D occurs with respect to the first beast four times (twice each in verses 5, 7) and the second beast twice (verses 14, 15). These have a particular focus on the beasts’ activities towards the people of God. 245 Apart from 13:10 and the similar reference in 14:12, the only occurrences of K 8 and   are in commendations of the churches (Rev. 2:2, 3, 13, 19; 3:10) and the description of John’s common experience with his audience in the face of persecution (1:9).

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Saints inside and outside the story are tied together, and the audience are encouraged to avoid compromise with idolatrous power-structures and to resist any pressure to deny the name of the Lamb. With the appearance of the second beast (13:11), allusions to Daniel 7 fade, but not the context of Daniel as a whole. Beale rightly argues that the description recalls the situation of Daniel’s three friends when faced with Nebuchadnezzar’s image (Daniel 3).246 While the description of the activities of the two beasts locates the scene within the emperor cult of the Asian cities, the dilemma facing the people of God is precisely that which the three young men faced. Although we have assumed that there is no official widespread persecution taking place contemporary with John’s writing, this passage (Rev. 13:11–17) appears to build on a situation which John’s audience could at least have envisaged.247 In this passage they are encouraged to look behind the apparent power of the state or its local representatives, and to realize that death as punishment for refusal to participate in idolatrous practices (especially emperor-worship) is itself something granted by the hand of God (*+ " D . . . 8+H [L ]  ) . & 80 (D &*   + &   , 13:15). This is not a prediction of universal martyrdom for Christians.248 The text states that the beast is given the power to kill anyone who will not worship the image, not that it actually does so. Further, if all those who refuse to worship were killed, there would be little point in the economic sanctions described in verses 16–17.249 In fact the two-fold implication for the people of God in this vision, death for some and deprivation for others, nicely reflects the two lines of verse in verse 10, captivity for some and death for others. The nature of the mark of the beast and the kind of social situation envisaged in verses 16–17 have been the topic of much debate and speculation. Hemer suggests that membership of trade guilds is involved, and Yarbro Collins adds to this the use of Roman coinage with the emperor’s

246 Beale, Revelation, p. 711; so also Sweet, Revelation, pp. 216–17; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 86. 247 Beale, Revelation, p. 713; Aune Revelation 6–16, p. 765; Bauckham, Climax, p. 447. Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, pp. 135–6, suggests this as the ‘rhetorical exigency’ for Revelation. 248 See Caird, Revelation, p. 177; Beale, Revelation, p. 713; Marshall, ‘Martyrdom and the Parousia’; against Charles, Revelation, vol. I, pp. 360–1. 249 Garrow, Revelation, p. 90, recognizing the logical inconsistency, proposes that 13:15 is a later gloss. There is no need to make such unevidenced hypotheses, as my analysis of the text shows.

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image.250 Judge suggests a temporary mark giving entry to markets.251 While there is a degree of loss of diachronic relevance here unless further evidence comes to light, two implicatures are evident even at our distance and must have been prominent for John’s audience. The first is that the mark (%5) is a parody of the seal (!) of God (7:3).252 Even without taking either as a physical mark, there is clearly a division in humanity: some have the seal of God, others the mark of the beast.253 While the latter appear to have taken the easy option at present, their ultimate fate will be made clear in 14:9–11. The second implicature is that those who refuse the degree of conformity symbolized by the mark of the beast will be subject to economic deprivation and oppression.254 If we pause at the end of ch. 13 and glance forward to the next few images of the people of God, we can notice a striking contrast. In the immediate foreground stand the 144,000 followers of the Lamb on Mt Zion in a victory tableau. Further on we see ‘those who had conquered the beast and its image and the number of its name’ involved in a New Exodus, singing the song of Moses and of the Lamb in worship to God (15:2–4). Yet throughout ch. 13, and still at its end, the people of God appear to be conquered and oppressed and many of them killed. This is a significant narrative gap. How has the victory been obtained? What intermediate stages are there between ch. 13 and chs. 14–15? Although John’s audience would not have the privilege of such a forward look on first hearing the Apocalypse, the close allusion to Daniel 7 may have raised some of the same questions for them. The outcome of the vision 250 Hemer, Letters, pp. 108–9, 126–7; see also Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 768; Kraybill, Imperial Cult, pp. 110–17; Garrow, Revelation, p. 91; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 126–7; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘The Political Perspective of the Revelation to John’, JBL 96 (1977), p. 253, following Caird, Revelation, p. 173; Harland, ‘Honouring the Emperor’, p. 117. The coinage option is approved of by Harrington, Revelation, pp. 143–4; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, p. 311–12; and rejected by Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, p. 80. 251 E. A. Judge, ‘The Mark of the Beast, Revelation 13:16’, TynB 42 (1991), pp. 158–60. See also Beale, Revelation, pp. 715–17. 252 So Beale, Revelation, pp. 715–16; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 768; Mounce, Revelation, p. 262; Harrington, Revelation, p. 143; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 86; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 311–12. 253 Perhaps the most significant failure in relevance in the book of Revelation for subsequent readers is the number of the beast. See Mounce, Revelation, pp. 263–5, who points out (p. 264) that ‘as early as the second century the solution to this riddle had escaped so prominent a theologian as Irenaeus’. See also Beagley, ‘Sitz im Leben’, p. 80; Goulder, M. Goulder, ‘The Phasing of the Future’, in T. Fornberg and D. Hellholm (eds.), Texts and Contexts: Biblical Texts in their Textual and Situational Contexts (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1995), p. 406. Michaels, Revelation, pp. 166–7, warns the modern reader that the purpose of the number is ‘to characterize, not identify, the beast’ and suggests prioritizing verse 10 over verse 18. 254 See O’Donovan, ‘Political Thought’, p. 82.

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of the beasts in Daniel 7 is the sovereignty and eternal rule of the holy ones of the Most High. I suggest that there are answers to this puzzle, both internal to the narrative of ch. 13 and in the succeeding paragraphs in ch. 14. First, throughout the story of the beasts there has been an underlying assumption of divine sovereignty.255 This is enhanced when we recall that John has turned Daniel’s narrative inside out, and the story of the beasts takes place within the framework of the throne-room scene and its ultimate outcome. Secondly, there are a number of relevance links which ch. 13 has evoked which point to a reinterpretation of the victory of the saints, or at least of the means by which victory is achieved. Throughout the depressing story of ch. 13, the voice heard in heaven in 12:10–11 will still have an echo: ‘They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony and they loved not their lives unto death.’ Victory over the dragon must imply victory over his agents, which therefore partakes of the same duality. It is accomplished by Christ’s sacrificial death and it is accomplished in the lives of believers by their witness to, and identification with, that death. This is then reinforced by the links which the hearing formula creates with the promises to the overcomers. Faithfulness and endurance are the means to victory. And finally there is dramatic irony in the story itself, because those who are defeated are those who refuse to worship the beast, ‘whose names [are] written from the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb that was slaughtered’. At this most threatening moment for the people of God, individually or corporately, their identity is affirmed as those marked down for eternal life, through the slaughtered Lamb. Defeat of this kind is victory.256 Several features of ch. 14 will further reinforce these cognitive effects. The first scene, of the Lamb on Mt Zion with the 144,000, will be examined shortly, but we can note here that connotations of victory are closely tied to those of sacrifice. Then the fate of the nations is presented, both positively for those who will ‘fear God . . . and worship him . . .’ (14:7), and negatively in the pronouncement of the doom of those who ‘worship the beast’ (14:9–11).257 The reversal of the security and comfort which 255 256 257

See Boring, Revelation, p. 154, ‘God the hidden actor’. See Sweet, Revelation, p. 212; Harrington, Revelation, p. 139. On the background to the angel with the gospel see W. Altink, ‘Theological Motives for the Use of 1 Chronicles 16:8–36 as Background for Revelation 14:6–7’, AUSS 24 (1986), pp. 211–21. Bauckham, Climax, pp. 283–6, traces through this chapter the theme of the salvation of the nations of the world. E. Fudge, ‘The Final End of the Wicked’, JETS 27 (1984), pp. 325–34, argues for an annihilationist view of the punishment of the worshippers of the beast.

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they enjoyed under the regime of the beasts brings an implication of a similar reversal for those who refuse to worship the beast or its image. While the one group has ‘no rest day or night’ (14:11), those who ‘die in the Lord’ are pronounced as ‘blessed’ and the Spirit gives the assurance that ‘they will rest from their labours’ (14:13). In between these references to rest, another direct address to the audience reinforces the message for the real Christians in the Asian churches.258 Endurance, obedience, and faith are the qualities required of them if they are to overcome (14:12).259 The tension remaining at the end of ch. 13, where the close context of Daniel 7 leads to an expectation of the appearance of ‘one like a son of man’, is resolved in two different ways in ch. 14. The first is implicit in the appearance of the Lamb, who has previously been identified with Daniel’s son of man figure.260 The second is the explicit vision of ‘one like a son of man’ seated on a cloud (14:14). The association of this figure with a series of angels, and the fact that he receives orders from an angel, has led some to suggest that this is not Christ but another angel.261 But, from a relevance standpoint, when ch. 13 has followed the outline of Daniel 7 so closely and yet has failed to bring it to its expected conclusion in favour of the people of God, the phrase  . !1+ &8     must suggest Daniel’s figure coming to receive a kingdom which is the kingdom of the holy ones.262 This has two further implicatures. First, recall that the Danielic ‘one like a son of man’ has already been identified as clearly as possible with the risen Jesus. Therefore there can have been no doubt in the audience’s mind that this is who is pictured here.263 But further, the appearance of the 258 Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 229, makes the point that the interruptions (13:10, 18; 14:12; 17:9) emphasize the rhetorical nature of the text and its import for John’s communities. 259 Keeping the commandments of God links the listeners to the children of the woman in 12:17, forming an inclusio around the visions of the beasts, and also makes a direct connection to the superscription to the whole book (1:3). Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 281, argues that keeping the commandments refers to the ethical requirements of the Torah, and (p. 280) that the ‘faith of Jesus’ means faithfulness to Jesus. See also S. Goranson, ‘Essene Polemic in the Apocalypse of John’, in M. Bernstein, F. Garc´ıa Mart´ınez, and J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies, Cambridge 1995 (STDJ, 23, Leiden: Brill, 1997), p. 457, who links the call to faithful obedience to similar statements from Qumran. 260 See pp. 118–23 above. 261 So Bousset, Offenbarung, p. 388; Kraft, Offenbarung, pp. 197–8; Casey, Son of Man, pp. 148–9; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 800–41. Also Michaels, Revelation, pp. 177–8, who rejects any allusion to Daniel 7. 262 So Collins, ‘Son of Man’, traces similar evocations of Daniel 7 in the first-century apocalypses of 4 Ezra, and the Similitudes of Enoch. 263 So Comblin, Le Christ, p. 62; Allo, L’Apocalypse, pp. 222–3; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 233; Bauckham, Theology, p. 97; Climax, p. 294; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 90;

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son of man figure must signal a resolution of the story in favour of the people of God. This supports the view which sees in the description of harvest (14:14–16) a depiction of the ingathering of the saints by their Messiah.264 Although the imagery of harvest no doubt derives from Joel 3:13 (MT 4:13), which describes the judgment of unbelieving nations, the more immediately accessible cognitive environment of Daniel 7 will most likely modify the meaning attributed to it.265 This interpretation of the harvest is also in line with the interpretation of Daniel 7 found in the Synoptic Apocalypse, where the son of man comes on the clouds of heaven and sends his angels to gather his elect.266 Here is at least the hint that John is expounding Daniel 7 to its logical end. This is further confirmed in the vision of the conquerors beside the sea (15:2–4). The fulness of the reign of the saints will not be portrayed until the final pictures of the New Jerusalem (22:5, cf. 20:4, 6), but here they are assured of victory as the outcome of their battle. Merged with some of the strongest evocations of the Exodus in the book, Daniel’s vision Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 229; Sweet, Revelation, p. 229; Mounce, Revelation, p. 279; A. P. Van Schaik, ‘ Y > Y> in Apk 14’, in Lambrecht, L’Apocalypse johannique, pp. 222–5; B. Lindars, Jesus Son of Man: A Fresh Examination of the Son of Man Sayings in the Gospels in the Light of Recent Research (London: SPCK, 1983), p. 159. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, pp. 175–95, shows that angelic characteristics do not disqualify the figure from representing Christ. See also Beale, Revelation, p. 770; Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration, pp. 241–5; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 233; Roloff, Revelation, p. 177; Yarbro Collins, ‘Son of Man’, p. 567. 264 Most cogently argued by Bauckham, Climax, pp. 290–6; see also his Theology, pp. 95–7. Similarly Marshall, ‘Martyrdom and Parousia’, p. 337; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 234; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 90; Farrer, Revelation, p. 167; Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 129; Vos, Synoptic Traditions, pp. 144–52. Others see both harvest and vintage as representing the judgment of the wicked: Beale, Revelation, pp. 773–9; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 228; Roloff, Revelation, p. 178; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 801–2. Caird, Revelation, pp. 190–3; A. Feuillet, ‘La Moisson et la vendange de l’Apocalypse (14,14–20): la signification chr´etienne de la r´ev´elation johannique’, NRT 94 (1972), pp. 113–32, 225– 50, and, more tentatively, Sweet, Revelation, pp. 229–30, find both images to be positive. The connotations of the winepress make it difficult to find such a positive meaning in the second image. See Targ. Isa. 63:1–3 in B. D. Chilton, The Isaiah Targum: Introduction, Translation, Apparatus and Notes (AramBib, 11; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1987), p. 120. Also J. Schwartz, ‘Treading the Grapes of Wrath: The Wine Press in Ancient Jewish and Christian Tradition’, TZ 49 (1993), pp. 215–28, 311–24. 265 Beale, Revelation, pp. 777–8, argues that John uses Joel ‘contextually’. Similarly Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 228. But this ignores the interaction of the language of Joel 3 with the context of Daniel 7. Allo, L’Apocalypse, pp. 223–4 rightly suggests that Joel is the source of form, not meaning. Similarly Marshall, ‘Martyrdom and Parousia’, p. 337. 266 Matt. 24:30–1 and parallels. This does not require a direct link between gospel harvest parables and Revelation 14, as suggested by Krodel, Revelation, p. 273; Farrer, Revelation, p. 166; Caird, Revelation, p. 190. The arguments in favour of such a link, advanced by Vos, Synoptic Traditions, pp. 144–52, have been comprehensively answered by Yarbro Collins, ‘Son of Man’, pp. 562–7.

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continues to exercise a background influence.267 Just as there the reign of the son of man is interpreted as a reign of the saints, so here the victory of the Lamb is portrayed as a victory of the people of God.268 They sing

. Z. D :0¨10  4   & . Z. D

  .269 This identifies them (as slaves of God) with Moses, on a journey towards the promised land, and also with the Lamb. They sing the Lamb’s song because they share his victory.270 And this means that the nature of their victory is the same as his, through suffering and death.271 They are said to have conquered &  + & & ( &*  "  & &  

 [ *  " . Although this unusual use of &50 + & may simply be a Latinism (as suggested by Aune), there are good cognitive effects available from taking it as a constructio praegnans, indicating that they have emerged as conquerors from the whole episode of the beast with its oppressive idolatry.272 This ties in closely with the imperatives in the messages to the churches where conquerors are those who persevere in faithful, obedient witness against all odds.273 The victory of the people of God, then, has a double source. It is dependent on the one hand on the victory (through death) of the Lamb and on the appearance of the one like a son of man. On the other hand, it is achieved in the lives of the people of God by means of their own

267 See especially Casey, ‘Exodus Typology’, p. 190, and also Beale, Revelation, pp. 792– 9; Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 872; Caird, Revelation, p. 197; Sweet, Revelation, pp. 239; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 91–2. For links with Daniel’s vision see Beale, Revelation, pp. 789–91; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 870. 268 The conquerors here are identified with the 144,000 by, for example, Roloff, Revelation, p. 183; Caird, Revelation, pp. 197–8; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 235. 269 The words of the song have some connections with Exodus. 15 and Deuteronomy 32. See Casey, ‘Exodus Typology’, p. 192; Caird, Revelation, p. 198. 270 A subjective genitive ( . Z@.   ) is favoured by Beale, Revelation, p. 793; Sweet, Revelation, p. 240 (by implication). Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 872–3, prefers the objective genitive. For a combination of the two see J. A. du Rand, ‘The Song of Victory of the Lamb because of the Victory of the Lamb’, Neot 29 (1995), pp. 203–10. J. C. de Moor and E. van Staalduine-Sulman, ‘The Aramaic Song of the Lamb’, JSJ 24 (1993), pp. 266–79, claim to have discovered traces of the lost ‘Song of the Lamb’ in the Tosephta Targum to 1 Sam. 17, in which David is the ‘lamb’. If such a ‘Song of the Lamb’ was available to John’s audience it would form a sounding board for many allusions, but most importantly it would strengthen the association of the symbol of the Lamb with the Davidic Messiah. 271 So Harrington, Revelation, p. 158. 272 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 871–2. The constructio praegnans possibility is supported by Caird, Revelation, p. 198, and probably Mounce, Revelation, p. 286, n.4. K. G. C. Newport, ‘The Use of EK in Revelation: Evidence of Semitic Influence’, AUSS 24 (1986), pp. 223–30, suggests the influence here of the Hebrew (and Aramaic) particle ˜mI . 273 See Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, pp. 91–2 for connections to the conquerors in the seven messages.

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witness to and faithfulness to Christ, and their identification with him in suffering and death. 5.6

Companions of the Lamb

We have traced the narrative outline of Daniel 7 in Revelation through to its conclusion in Rev. 14:14–16 in order to see the overall plan of the narrative, but in doing so we have barely touched on the picture of the Lamb and his followers on Mt Zion, 14:1–5. In part this is because it stands apart, as does Mt Zion itself in Revelation’s topography, an errant boulder on the plain shaped by Daniel 7. Rev. 14:1–4 is analagous to Revelation 7, in discourse location and in structure and in function, as well as in lexical and semantic detail.274 The passage consists of a vision, an audition, and an explanation, but together it presents a dramatic and ironic contrast to the scene portrayed in ch. 13.275 The vision, Rev. 14:1 The dragon that stood on the seashore (12:18) and the beasts that parodied the Lamb (13:3, 11) disappear from view, and in their place is the true Lamb standing on Mt Zion. The Lamb does nothing here but stand, and it is as though his mere presence is enough to defeat the beasts. But the reminder that it was the Lamb’s death which secured the people of God in the face of the beast is still fresh.276 Even more than the person of the Lamb, it is the location of this vision on Mt Zion (unique here in the Apocalypse) which brings with it most cognitive effects. Within the literary context of the book, mountains have ambivalent connotations. In the cosmic disasters portrayed in 6:14–16, mountains offer false security for the distraught people because they themselves are subject to removal.277 On the second trumpet, ‘something like a great mountain’, thrown into the sea, devastates marine life and commerce (8:8). Subsequently the whore Babylon/Rome is seated on 274 Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 218, shows how ch. 14 portrays the fate of the elect in the face of the catastrophe of ch. 13 in the same way that ch. 7 does following ch. 6. Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 796, presents structural parallels with ch. 7. His structural outline, pp. 791–2, will form the basis of my comments. 275 See Beale, Revelation, p. 731; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, pp. 124, 131; Sweet, Revelation, p. 221. 276 Especially 12:11, but 13:8 has also recalled the promise of 3:5. Note too that the first time the Lamb is introduced into the story he is described as \ +&  # !1  (5:5). Here he is \   9. 277 Cf. 16:20, where no mountains are to be found.

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seven mountains (17:9). Conversely, a lofty mountain is also the site for John’s vision of the holy city (21:10). But here we are specifically on Mt Zion, which, since its acquisition by the shepherd-king, was known as the City of David (2 Sam. 5:7) and carries ideas associated with the Davidic Messiah in almost all of its occurrences.278 It is the place of residence of God (Pss. 9:11; 76:2; 132:13) and his anointed king (Ps. 2:6).279 It is the place from which help is expected to come for the people of God, but also the focus of the hopes of restoration of the exiles.280 These two ideas probably bring over into our text the most significant cognitive effects. John has already made extensive use of Psalm 2, both with respect to Christ (6:15; 11:15, 18; 12:5 and later 19:5) and his people (2:26–7).281 The psalm is thus a readily opened context at this point, and the messianic hope, focussed there on the Davidic warrior-king, is here centred on the Lamb.282 The hope of divine deliverance from and for Zion is perhaps best summed up in those passages which speak of the assembling of the survivors of Israel on Mt Zion. Joel 2:32 (MT and LXX 3:5) is most relevant, as it combines the concept of the salvation of a remnant with that of the judgment of the nations, and the restoration of Judah and Jerusalem.283 It makes little sense, then, to ask whether this is the earthly Zion or a heavenly counterpart. It is once again a mistake to try to identify a referent. For the audience, the multiple, unstated connotations of this elliptic metalepsis ‘bleed over’ and fill in the outline of the brief visionary 278 See C. Br¨ utsch, Clart´e de l’ Apocalypse (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1995), p. 151, n. 55, for details on the OT occurrences, most of which are in the Psalms and prophets. Almost all of the NT occurrences have messianic import (Matt. 21:5; John 12:15; Rom. 9:33; 11:26; 1 Pet. 2:6). Rom. 11:26–7 (quoting Isa. 59:20–1) is particularly significant, linking the appearance of a Deliverer on Zion with the restoration of Israel and the conversion of the Gentiles, themes which have been combined in the portrayal of the people of God in Revelation 7. See also Heb. 12:22–4. 279 See, for example, Vos, Synoptic Traditions, p. 139; Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, pp. 122–3; Beale, Revelation, p. 731. 280 For examples of help from Zion see Pss. 14:7; 20:2; 53:6; 110:2. Among the very many expressions of hope or longing for Zion’s restoration see Pss. 69:35; 102:13; 137:1; Isa. 35:10; 51:3, 11, 16; 61:3. 281 See, especially, Bauckham, Climax, p. 231. Also Beale, Revelation, p. 732; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 218–19; Harrington, Revelation, p. 146; Sweet, Revelation, p. 221. 282 So Caird, Revelation, p. 178. This verse thus reflects the Lion/Lamb tension of 5:5–6. That the Lamb is himself a warrior is evident not only from his place at the head of this army (cf. 7:1–8) but also later in 17:14; 19:11–16. 283 See also Joel 3:1–2 (MT and LXX 4:1–2); also 3:17–21 (MT and LXX 4:17–21). Joel is suggested as a background by Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 87; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 195; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 218–19; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 222; Sweet, Revelation, p. 221; Mounce, Revelation, p. 267. See also 2 Kings 19:30–1 and the firstcentury CE apocalypse of 4 Ezra 13:5–11, 25–50. See Charles, Revelation, vol. II, p. 4, and Bauckham, Climax, p. 231. While there may also be Exodus motifs here, they do not dominate the Zion-based eschatology as claimed by Casey, ‘Exodus Typology’, pp. 185–6.

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scene with colours, drawn from a host of sources, of the promise of God’s deliverance and salvation through the agency of the Messiah.284 The Lamb on Mt Zion, rather than being the main interest of the passage, is actually the context in which we see the 144,000. The absence of an article leads some commentators to suggest that this is not the same group as those who were sealed in 7:1–8.285 But Beale has rightly pointed out that anarthrous references to previously mentioned subjects are far from rare in Revelation.286 In any case, to ask whether this is the same group or a different one is again to search for a one-to-one correspondence between symbols and reality within the vision world, as if John is viewing parts of a self-consistent cosmos.287 Just as in ch. 7, the importance is in the association of symbols, rather than an identification of referents. And here, by means of their number, the name on their foreheads, and their association with the Messiah, John ensures that his audience link the symbol with that in 7:1–8.288 While this and the following verses will describe these people within the context of this vision, clearly there will be implications carried over from ch. 7. This is the messianic army, the new Israel, complete and restored, the whole people of God who were marked as belonging to God and for protection against demonic attack.289 But this passage achieves particularly high relevance because not only does it recall these previous assumptions, but it builds new information onto them. In ch. 7 the army is headed by the tribe of Judah, providing an 284 Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 129, finds no way to distinguish between the many possible overtones of the Zion allusion. In a statement supported by the RT refusal to draw a line between strong implicatures and a sliding scale of weak ones, she says ‘Yet this indeterminacy could become a plus if we would understand apocalyptic language as poetic language i.e. as opening up rather than limiting, as evoking rather than defining meanings. Only then would we be able to perceive the strength of the image with all its possible overtones of meanings for the writer as well as for the audience’. 285 Bousset, Offenbarung, p. 380, and Charles, Revelation, vol. II, pp. 5–6, held that the editor has distinguished two previously identical groups by deleting the article. Similarly Aune, ‘Following of the Lamb’, p. 271; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 804. Others to distinguish the two groups include Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 197; Satake, Gemeindeordnung, p. 39. 286 Most recently at 13:1. See Beale, Revelation, p. 734, for a list. 287 See pp. 43–6, 137 above. 288 And, therefore, with the great crowd as well. So Bauckham, Climax, pp. 230–1; Mounce, Revelation, p. 268; Michaels, Revelation, p. 169. Others who equate the two include Beale, Revelation, pp. 733–5; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 87; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, p. 127 (who distinguishes both from the crowd); Sweet, Revelation, p. 222; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 219; Boring, Revelation, p. 128; Roloff, Revelation, p. 170. 289 The fact that neither is John told the number (as in 7:4) nor are these people described as arrayed in tribal phalanxes supports both the symbolic interpretation and identification with the earlier group. For the significance of the symbol as the completeness of the people of God see Beale, Revelation, p. 733; Charles, Revelation, vol. II, p. 4; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 222. Those who see them as only a part of the church, distinguished either by fate or time period, include Aune, Revelation, p. 804; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, p. 127; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 197.

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implicit link to the Messiah. This is here made explicit as the 144,000 are described as being with the Lamb. The Lion of the tribe of Judah heads the army as the slaughtered Lamb. And the complete people of God is defined by its companionship with the Lamb. Further, while the nature of the seal of God was not specified in ch. 7, here the 144,000 have the name of God and the Lamb on their foreheads.290 It is suggested that this marks the group as a community of priests, an idea which derives from the engraved rosette on the forehead of the High Priest in Exod. 28:36–7.291 But there are much more easily accessed cognitive environments within the text itself. This reference is part of a dialectic process which extends over the whole book, starting from the promise to the conquerors at Philadelphia that Christ will write on them the name of his God, of the new Jerusalem, and his own name (Rev. 3:12). This is weakly evoked by the sealing passage, then strongly but antithetically evoked by the name of the beast being marked on its worshippers (13:16, 17). Ch. 13 poses the problem: if the sealing marked God’s people for protection, how is it that those with the mark of the beast are the ones who enjoy security and prosperity? Rev. 14:1 returns to an emphatic statement of the thesis, with all three prior passages feeding cognitive effects into it. Despite appearances, in reality it is those who resist the beast and its mark who are owned by God, who share companionship with the Lamb, and who are marked as conquerors. Once again the apocalyptic images of the vision are tied to the reality of the lives of the audience. The dialectic continues as we are shown the fate of those marked by the beast (14:9, 11), the victory of those who resist (15:2), and further views on the punishment of those who have the beast’s mark (16:2, 19:20) before being told of the reign of those who resist the beast (20:4) and the ultimate bliss of those marked with the name of God (22:4).292 At each point in this switch-back the audience have the memory of the promise of 3:12 reawakened and the line of distinction between the worshippers of the beast and the followers of the Lamb is sharpened.

290 This was a weak implicature in the earlier passage (p. 129 above). It is here strengthened and made explicit. Although the concept of ‘sealing’ is not explicit in ch. 14, the common ideas of 144,000 people with something on their foreheads makes the implicature strong. 291 See Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 132; Revelation, p. 88, and p. 44 above. 292 See Figure 5.1. Note that there is no synthesis. The two names are mutually exclusive and the only outcome can be the destruction of one, not its absorption into or modification of the other.

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Base passage in seven messages (Thesis) 3:12 “I will write on you the name of my God and the name of the city of my God … and my own new name.” Thesis 7:1-8 144,000 sealed on foreheads

Antithesis

13:16-17 Mark of beast on forehead or arm 14:1 Name of God and Lamb on foreheads 14:9,11 Fate of those with mark of beast foretold 15:2 Conquerors of the number/name of beast 16:2 Sores on those with mark of beast 19:20 False prophet destroyed who had deceived those with mark of beast 20:4 Rule of those who had not received mark of beast

22:4 Name of God on foreheads in heavenly city Key:

Strong evocation

Weak evocation

Dialectic contrast

Notes: (1) The central group of italicized references are a sub-set in themselves, as all have to do with the mark of the beast but in two different ways, relating those who receive it and those who resist it. (2) The thesis eliminates the antithesis in the New Jerusalem.

Figure 5.1 Dialectic of naming/sealing/marking in Revelation

184

The People of God in the Apocalypse The audition, Rev. 14:2–3

The voice which John hears ‘from heaven’ recalls the voice of the ‘one like a son of man’ (1:15, # !0 . K5 0  ), the voice of the first living creature (6:1, # !0 .  (), and the seven thunders which respond to the ‘mighty angel’ in ch. 10.293 Harps have previously been mentioned in the hands of the twenty-four elders (5:8). The voice and the music come &  " , leading some to conclude that it is the sound of a heavenly or angelic choir.294 However, the song is sung    *  &    50 30 D &   10 (verse 3). And, although it stretches back over verse 2, the most natural referent for the anaphoric third-person plural ]H is the 144,000, despite the spatial confusion this causes.295 There is precedent in Revelation for both angelic and human choirs.296 But the proposition that this is the voice of the redeemed receives support not only from the latter part of the verse, but retrospectively when the conquerors of the beast sing ‘with harps of God in their hands’ (15:2) and when the great crowd is heard singing in heaven (19:1–8).297 The effect in ch. 14 is that the companions of the Lamb find their identity, not only alongside the hosts of heaven, but with the Lamb himself, whose voice ‘like many waters’ their voice resembles.298 Audition merges seamlessly into explanation in the latter part of verse 3. The song is the exclusive right of the redeemed community. The repetition of the number here with the appositive clause explaining them as  ^1   ( ( strengthens the presupposition that the 144,000 symbolize the entire people of God. The explanation, Rev. 14:4–5 The final two verses of this paragraph supplement what the audience have already learned about the 144,000 by means of a narratorial 293

Thunder also occurs as a part of the accompaniment of theophany in 4:5; 8:5; 11:19;

16:18. 294 Charles, Revelation, vol. II, p. 7; Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 122; Allo, L’Apocalypse, p. 196; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 219; Michaels, Revelation, p. 169 (an unknown heavenly voice); Roloff, Revelation, pp. 170–1; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 806. 295 So Beale, Revelation, pp. 735–6; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 222; Mounce, Revelation, pp. 268–9. 296 5:11–12; 7:11–12; 11:15–19; 12:10–12. See Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 131. 297 See Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 806–7, for comparisons with this latter passage. Also Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 131. Thus, significantly, 19:1–8 forges a link between the 144,000 companions of the Lamb and the martyrs under the altar. 298 Rev. 14:2, cf. 1:15.

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explanation, which is neatly structured by three occurrences of J .299 The first part, J   _  )  & "& 4 + 2 1  5  , has occasioned considerable discussion for its allegedly misogynist or at least ascetic implications.300 Few take the wording literally and RT reinforces this hesitation, as the conditions required for a literal interpretation require excessive processing effort since John nowhere else distinguishes between men and women in terms of their membership of the community of faith and nowhere else takes a misogynist stance.301 There are several common explanations for this language, one or more of which are advanced by most commentators. First, it can be understood as part of the military metaphor which has been present since ch. 7, with the people of God seen as prepared for battle by their abstinence from sexual relationships.302 Related to this are cognitive environments involving the abstinence required of priests before performing the service of God, or of the people as a whole before meeting God.303 These views may explain part of the text and account for the male-specific language, but they fail to do justice to the explanatory clause, 1  5  , as both military and priestly sexual abstinence were temporary requirements.304 The 299 See Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 272; Beale, Revelation, p. 738. Michaels, ‘Revelation 1.19’, p. 612, points out that, although this is similar to 7:14b–17, here John himself is the knowledgeable narrator. 300 See, for example, Pippin, Death and Desire, pp. 70, 80; D. M. Scholer, ‘Feminist Hermeneutics and Evangelical Biblical Interpretation’, JETS 30 (1987), p. 414; A. Yarbro Collins, ‘Women’s History and the Book of Revelation’, in K. H. Richards (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers (Atlanta, GA: Scholar’s Press, 1987), pp. 86–9. 301 So Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 88; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 221. For a discussion of celibacy (temporary or permanent) see Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, p. 129; Yarbro Collins, ‘Women’s History’, p. 96; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 221; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 316–17; S. P. Brock, ‘Early Syrian Asceticism’, Numen 20 (1973), p. 7; and especially Aune, Revelation 6–16, pp. 810–12, 818–22. Roloff, Revelation, p. 171–2, considers that John is here presenting celibacy as the ideal for discipleship. 302 This is argued most cogently by Bauckham, Climax, pp. 230–1, and Aune, ‘Following of the Lamb’, p. 274. See also Satake, Gemeindeordnung, p. 45; Aune, ‘Qumran’, p. 644; Slater, Christ and Community, p. 193; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 130–1; Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 120; Michaels, Revelation, pp. 170–1; Boring, Revelation, p. 169; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 223; Caird, Revelation, p. 179; Sweet, Revelation, p. 222. 303 Cf. Exod. 19:15. See Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, pp. 130–1; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 325–6; Harrington, Revelation, pp. 146–7. H. McArthur, ‘Celibacy in Judaism at the Time of Christian Beginnings’, AUSS 25 (1987), pp. 171–3, discusses abstinence under special conditions, deriving from the Exodus 19 tradition, and suggests that there was a supposition, based on Ps. 146, that intercourse would be forbidden in ‘the time to come’. Yet this is not the same thing as virginity. 304 See Krodel, Revelation, p. 263; Beale, Revelation, p. 738. Bauckham’s counterargument, that lifelong celibacy refers to the perpetual readiness of the Christian to take part in holy war, fails to convince. The point is that a present-tense reference to virginity would not lead the audience to access a military context in the first place.

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other main view is that the language of sexual abstinence refers to spiritual faithfulness.305 This is an idea which resonates with the extended OT image of Israel, or Zion, as a virgin bride and of her apostasy in terms of harlotry.306 But it fails to account for the male-specific language of the first clause. Olson proposed that this is an accurately worded allusion to the fallen angels in the Book of Watchers, that it achieves its relevance by suggesting that believers take the place of the watchers, and that no further implications need be drawn from the male-specific language.307 This achieves a high degree of relevance, but the reference to virgins is still puzzling as is was not a major element in the passages from 1 Enoch. Once again we have to conclude that John is forcing together concepts which do not actually belong together, and that the two phrases which appear on the surface to be mutually explanatory are in fact related by a more complex hermeneutic. Olson’s suggestion that the redeemed take the place of the fallen angels has the further implicature that they therefore fulfil a role as heavenly priests which ties this proposal closely to the concept of priestly abstinence.308 But, given the recently opened context of Daniel 7, where the term ‘the holy ones’ seems to bring the people of God into close relationship with the angelic host, it may equally relate to the concept of military abstinence. Furthermore, the phrase 1  5  , even with its attachment to the previous phrase, may achieve optimal relevance within a text-internal context which we must examine briefly. Both phrases belong within the domain of the language of sexuality, which is the source of another dialectic relationship covering almost the whole Apocalypse. This time it is grounded in statements in chs. 1–2 about fornication and adultery, in the polemic against those who follow Balaam’s teaching (2:14) and those who are entangled with ‘Jezebel’ (2:20, 22). While there may be connotations of literal sexual sins (and in the OT cult prostitution is the embodiment of spiritual apostasy), almost 305 So Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 274; Beale, Revelation, pp. 738–40 (perhaps the best statement of this case); Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 133; Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 88; Krodel, Revelation, pp. 263–4; Vos, Synoptic Traditions, p. 141; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 221; Ford, Revelation, p. 234; Michaels, Revelation, p. 171; Boring, Revelation, p. 169; Sweet, Revelation, p. 222; Mounce, Revelation, p. 270. 306 For Israel as a virgin see, for example, 2 Kings 19:21; Isa. 37:22; Jer. 14:17; 31:4. For her apostasy as harlotry see Jer. 3:2; 13:27; Hos. 5:4, and the extended metaphors in Ezekiel chs. 16 and 23, and Hosea ch. 2. 307 See D. C. Olson, ‘“Those who have not Defiled themselves with Women”: Revelation 14:4 and the Book of Enoch’, CBQ 59 (1997), pp. 492–510, and the discussion in Pattemore, ‘Intertextuality’. 308 Olson, ‘Those who have not Defiled themselves’, pp. 501, 507. So also Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 318–19.

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certainly the reference is to spiritual unfaithfulness, shown in involvement with practices connected to idolatry. The first point of contact with this thesis within the second main vision is in 9:20–1, where it is said of those who survive the plagues of the sixth trumpet that they repented neither of their idolatry nor of their fornication. The first presentation of the antithesis is at 14:4, a picture of people whose perpetual allegiance to the Lamb is symbolized by their virginity, with weaker links back to the Sardians who ‘have not soiled their garments’ (3:4). The fornication/ adultery imagery reaches its climax in the visions of the whore and the fall of Babylon.309 But in this dialectic process it is the antithesis which eliminates the thesis, as the final images of the people of God are as the bride of the Lamb who is clothed in pure linen (19:7–8), adorned for her husband (21:1–2).310 This is the goal of the reference to virginity. Thus, as we have already observed in the story of the two witnesses and the story of the beasts, John’s opponents in the churches are drawn into the discussion by implication, but only to find themselves on the wrong side of a sharp dividing line with the prospect of exclusion from the eternal bliss of the redeemed. The motivation for John’s audience is to be part of the pure church, destined to be his virgin bride.311 This puzzling language, then, not only suggests (via 1 Enoch) that the people of God have a priestly status replacing the fallen angels but challenges them to maintain their total devotion to Christ.312 The second part of the explanation uses a present participle, & , which links it to the final statement of the first and third parts.313 A literal understanding of the verb would lead to the picture of the 144,000 in some supposed ‘visionary present’, following the Lamb around on a tour of heaven!314 The audience would derive few positive cognitive results from such a thought, and it requires considerable processing effort. More relevance is obtained by taking the verb in a 309 310

Rev. 14:8; 17:2, 4; 18:3, 9; 19:2. The dialectic continues into the New Jerusalem passages, emphasizing both the exclusion of fornicators (21:8; 22:15) and the close union of believers with the Lamb/Jesus (21:9; 22:17). See Figure 5.2. 311 See Beale, Revelation, p. 740; Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 133; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 221. Paul’s desire to present the Corinthians ‘as a chaste virgin to Christ’ (2 Cor 11:2) demonstrates that this transfer of the OT sexual imagery to the church was well known in the early communities. See Harrington, Revelation, pp. 146–7; Michaels, Revelation, p. 171. 312 This conclusion accepts Olson’s main point, but supplements it with the ideas derived from spiritual connotations of sexual language in the Apocalypse. 313 Note the presents: 14:4 1  5  . . . & , 14:5 ]0  . These contrast with the aorist verbs used elsewhere in this explanation. 314 See Mounce, Revelation, p. 270.

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Base passages in seven messages 2:14, 20, 22 … practise fornication … practise fornication … commit adultery Thesis 9:21 … did not repent of their fornication

Antithesis

14:4 not defiled with women … virgins 14:8 Babylon has made all nations drink … her fornication 17:2, 4; 18:3, 9; 19:2 whoredom/fornication/ adultery of Babylon and those with her 19:7-8 marriage of Lamb bride … pure 21:1-2 Jerusalem … as a bride 21:8 Fornicators … in lake of fire 21:9 bride, wife of Lamb 22:15 Outside are … fornicators 22:17 Spirit and bride say “Come” Key:

Strong evocation Dialectic contrast

Notes: (1) The antithesis eliminates the thesis. There is no synthesis. (2) After the appearance of the bride, the only references to fornicators etc. is to their exclusion.

Figure 5.2 Dialectic of sexual imagery in Revelation

metaphorical sense of discipleship, with the present tense referring to the habitual mode of life of the people of God. It has been suggested that this is the only non-literal occurrence of &10 outside the gospels.315 315 Most helpfully by Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 275. But Rev. 19:14 is another possible candidate. See Beale, Revelation, p. 739.

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Indeed, the gospel descriptions of discipleship present the most productive cognitive environment for understanding this statement.316 Particular sayings which may be evoked include the offer of the would-be disciple to follow Jesus  ) 1%+@ (Matt. 8:19 // Luke 9:57), or Jesus’ words to Peter in John 13:36, or the call to cross-bearing presented by Jesus to those who would follow him (Mark 8:34 and parallels). But the search for a particular source involves more processing effort than is needed, when the cognitive environment formed by the gospel traditions of discipleship sayings must have been a readily opened context.317 Following Jesus means self-denial, loss of earthly comfort and security, allegiance to Jesus above any other relationship, acceptance of suffering and possible death for his sake. But it also means companionship with Jesus and entry into the Father’s house, the kingdom of God. Both of these dimensions of discipleship are relevant in John’s portrayal of the 144,000.318 It is an image of security and victory and companionship with the Lamb, in contrast to the apparent defeat under the beasts, and it is part of a theme that leads on to the eternal comfort and bliss of the saints in the heavenly city. Yet it is equally grounded in the present experience of suffering and the possibility, even likelihood, of martyrdom. Following the Lamb evokes pictures of the Lamb as shepherd from Rev. 7:17, but  ` K5+@ evokes the solemn affirmation in 13:10,  %0 K5.319 The third part of the explanation is itself a complex of four statements about the 144,000. First, they are ‘redeemed from humankind’. The two occurrences of 530 in this passage (14:3, from the earth; 14:4, from humankind) directly recall the only other metaphorical use of the verb, at 5:9, where the heavenly choir celebrates the results of the Lamb’s sacrificial death, by which people of all nations were ‘ransomed for God’. This reinforces the implicature already made, that the 144,000 represent

316 See Vos, Synoptic Traditions, pp. 139–44, who suggests that the present tense may reflect the form in which John knew the sayings of Jesus, especially those in Matt. 8:19; Luke 9:57. See also Beale, Revelation, p. 741; Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 275; Aune, Revelation 6–16, p. 813; Charles, Revelation, vol. II, p. 10; Caird, Revelation, p. 179. 317 This assumes only that John’s audience were familiar with the traditions behind the gospels, not the books in their present form. 318 See especially Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, pp. 132–3. 319 See Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 274; Revelation 6–16, p. 812, Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, ‘Followers of the Lamb’, p. 133. The relationship between discipleship and martyrdom also features in John 21:15–23. See further Beale, Revelation, p. 741; Mounce, Revelation, p. 270; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, p. 128; Michaels, Revelation, p. 170. Prigent, L’Apocalypse, pp. 221–2, notes that this verse was understood as implying martyrdom in the second century.

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the entire people of God.320 Since purchase results in ownership, it also retrospectively strengthens the association between the 144,000 sealed as belonging to God (7:1–8) and the vast international crowd (7:9–17).321 This context in turn controls the interpretation which can be placed on the next description of the 144,000, as %. D D & D  0H, which is in apposition to their redemption. This cannot now be taken to mean that they are a part of God’s people, even the best part, representing the greater harvest of all the faithful which is yet to come.322 Aune provides evidence for a more general sense of %. in the Greco-Roman context as simply an actual offering presented to a deity.323 If they are a part of any whole, then the whole is the totality of humanity, with the entire people of God as that part actually offered to God and the Lamb.324 These connotations of sacrificial offering are reinforced by the final two parts of the description. The phrase  D  *  "  "% "1+ ? recalls by contrast the self-styled apostles whom the Ephesians found to be lying (2:2) and the Jews of the ‘synagogue of Satan’ in Philadelphia (3:9), falsehood both within and without the churches. The close context of ch. 13 has no explicit lexical links to words in the ?family, but the portrayal of the state and its religious claims as an extended parody of the Lamb and true religious practice implies that those who compromise with it lose the integrity of their faith. The 144,000 victors are thus those who refuse the lie of the beast.325 This statement also 320 So Beale, Revelation, pp. 742–4; Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, pp. 276–7. E. Power, ‘A Pretended Interpolation in the Apocalypse’, Bib 4 (1923), pp. 108–12, rebuts the suggestion that 4c, 5ab is an interpolation and links the first-fruits to the concept of virginity. 321 There is perhaps also an ironic echo here of the fact that those who refused the mark of the beast could not buy ( 530) or sell (13:17). These who have the name of God and the Lamb on them have themselves been bought. 322 Some form of this view, usually taking the 144,000 as martyrs who anticipate the harvest of all the saints, is held by Slater, Christ and Community, p. 192; Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, p. 128; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 223–4; Caird Revelation, p. 180. 323 Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 277. In Revelation 6–16, pp. 814–18, he gives the most detailed treatment of this concept, tracing it through Hebrew, Greco-Roman, and NT contexts. He ends up (p. 818) with the most likely meaning of ‘people who are devoted to the deity as servants’. 324 Jer. 2:1–3 is a particularly significant context, as Israel is there described in terms of a young bride following her husband, and then (in the LXX) as the %.  +5 0 to the Lord. See Beale, Revelation, pp. 743–4; Prigent, L’Apocalypse, p. 222 ( who refers to Ezek. 45:1; 48:9). Bauckham, Climax, pp. 283–96, makes a strong case for the 144,000 here as first-fruits of a more general harvest of humanity, the conversion of the nations. This depends on connections to 14:14–20, which can only be made retrospectively. But even before that, adequate contextual effects can be obtained by interpreting %. in the less restrictive sense suggested above. 325 For this link see Beale, Revelation, p. 746; Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 277; Farrer, Revelation, p. 161.

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evokes Zeph. 3:13b, where the remnant of Israel will enjoy security and peace, while the nations are not only judged but also have their speech converted ‘to a pure speech’.326 But, in a context where the people of God are so closely related to the slaughtered Lamb, there may also be a contextual allusion to the statement about the suffering servant in Isa. 53:9, "P K1+ *  D  *  " .327 Just as the sound of their voices resembled that of the risen Christ (14:2), so the integrity of their speech matches that of the servant who was led as a lamb to the slaughter. The final statement about the 144,000, that they are blameless, is a further confirmation of their status as worthy sacrificial offerings to God and the Lamb.328 Over half the eighty-three occurrences of ]0 in the LXX relate to the qualifications of sacrificial victims. Another large group, mostly in Psalms and Proverbs, use it metaphorically in terms of qualifications to enter God’s presence. Both of these connotations make good sense here.329 The overall sense is that here are people who have followed Jesus’ command to ‘take up your cross and follow me’. They are closely identified with the Lamb: they themselves are fit for sacrifice and committed to the possibility of death like their leader. The story of discipleship is like the story of the Lamb. Companions in arms Two later passages relate closely to the picture of the companions of the Lamb which we have examined in 14:1–5. When the plague-bearing angel explains to John the vision of the woman on the beast (17:1–6), there is an interesting reworking of the vision of the beasts in ch. 13. Instead of war on the saints, the united powers of the ‘ten horns’ under the beast ‘will make war on the Lamb’ (17:14). The outcome is one-sided. 326 327

Although he does not cite it, this supports Bauckham’s thesis (n. 324 above). Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 191–2, argues that the direct reference is to Zeph. 3:13 but that Isa. 53:9 may form part of the background to that passage itself. For allusions to one or both of these passages from Revelation 14 see Beale, Revelation, p. 746; Michaels, Revelation, p. 172; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 223; Caird, Revelation, p. 180; Sweet, Revelation, p. 223. Isa. 53:9 is quoted in application to Christ in 1 Pet. 2:22. 328 Beale, Revelation, p. 747; Aune, ‘Following the Lamb’, p. 277; Revelation 6–16, p. 823; Caird, Revelation, p. 181; Sweet, Revelation, p. 223. 329 NT uses of ]0 provide supporting evidence from the early church context. The term is twice applied to Christ as a sacrificial offering to God (1 Pet. 1:19; Heb. 9:14). The remaining five occurrences relate to Christians being blameless (Eph. 1:4; 5:27; Phil. 2:15; Col. 1:22; Jude 24). The perfection of the church as a bride in Eph. 5:27 makes intriguing connections with the bride of the Lamb, clothed in pure linen (Rev. 19:7–8; 21:2).

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The Lamb takes on the direct attack of the unholy alliance and defeats it.330 The reference to   6 "  is almost an afterthought. In ch. 13 it is the people of God who are the direct object of aggression by the state and its agents, but here the Lamb stands between them and their enemies. That they are ‘with him’ unmistakably recalls the 144,000 in 14:1, and they are further described in terms both of what has been done for them and of their response. Both &+ * and && * are unique to this verse in Revelation, but other NT traditions show them to be familiar first-century descriptions of the status of Christians.331  * has already been used to describe the integrity of Christ as witness (1:5; 3:14), and that of Antipas, who was martyred (2:13). With these examples, the challenge to the Smyrnaeans facing imminent persecution,     ]%  5  (2:10), dramatically brings together the requirements of faithful witness and preparedness for martyrdom. But what part do the companions of the Lamb play in his victory? Aune presents evidence from Qumran of both an active and a passive role for the faithful in the eschatological battle, and suggests that in this verse we have one of the few traces of an active military role for the people of God in Revelation.332 But while this is a possible implicature here, John has avoided making it explicit. Certainly the faithful are closely associated with the victorious Lamb, but his victory is a consequence of his universal dominion, and those with him are markedly separated from the verb ‘to conquer’. The situation is similar in the second verse we must consider. In 19:11– 16 John relates a vision of a rider on a white horse, leading the armies of heaven into battle. The rider is usually taken to be Christ, an identification supported by his description, his titles, and the strong contextual evocation of Psalm 2.333 But the armies of heaven (19:14) present a greater difficulty. 330 Rev. 17:14,   &8 " 42   &4 &0   &  10 &   6 "  &+  & &&  &  . Beale, Revelation, p. 880, comments ‘The prediction of the beast’s victory over the saints in Dan 7:21 becomes an ironic type of his own final defeat’. 331 In the Synoptic Apocalypse && * is used of the people of God facing eschatological tribulation (Matt. 24:22, 24, 31; Mark 13:20, 22, 27). See also 1 Pet. 2:9 (with its connections already to Rev. 1:6; 5:10). &+ * and && * are contrasted in Matt. 22:14. &+ * and participial forms of &10 are particularly common elsewhere in the NT as descriptions of Christians having been called by God. Revelation normally uses &10 in the sense of naming, except for 19:9, where it refers to those invited to the wedding of the Lamb. 332 Aune, ‘Qumran’, p. 646; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 956. Similarly Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 258; Beale, Revelation, p. 880; Caird, Revelation, p. 220. 333 On this passage see the detailed treatments by Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 209–35, and Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, pp. 196–219.

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The most natural identification would be as the angelic host.334 But the description of their clothing following so closely the similar description of the clothing of bride of the Lamb (19:8) and the use of &10, which evokes the picture of the 144,000 in 14:4, suggest that such an identification does not exhaust the relevance of this picture.335 Thus it is possible (especially following 17:14) to see the people of God in the heavenly army.336 But in the cognitive environment to which Daniel 7 and the allusion to the heavenly watchers in 14:4 have contributed, there is a close relationship between the heavenly host and the earthly saints, and it is not necessary to make a sharp distinction. The people of God have been portrayed as having the status of heavenly beings and may be thought of as making up the heavenly army together with the angels.337 Once again, however, the army that accompanies Christ does not appear to take an active or aggressive role in the battle.338 It is closely associated with him and, bringing together the themes of 13:7 and 17:14, is attacked with him by the beast and its allies.339 But it is he alone who makes war and strikes the nations with the sword that comes out of his mouth, and kills the armies of the beast (19:11, 15, 21). 5.7

Conclusions

In describing his visions, John regularly provides points of integration for his audience which enable them to identify themselves in the visions and to own the visions as their story. He does this by using motifs from the messages to the churches and weaving them into his narrative, usually with further development.340 But he also ensures an identification of the 334 So Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1059; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 281; Roloff, Revelation, p. 219. 335 See also the discussion of white garments, p. 143 above. 336 So Beale, Revelation, pp. 860–1; Michaels, Revelation, pp. 216–17; Farrer, Revelation, pp. 198–9; Caird, Revelation, p. 244; Sweet, Revelation, p. 283. 337 So Boring, Revelation, p. 197; Mounce, Revelation, p. 346; Murphy, Fallen is Babylon, pp. 390–1, all of whom take the human element to be composed specifically of martyrs. This does not seem to be a necessary implicature. 338 So Aune, ‘Qumran’, p. 646; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 956; Michaels, Revelation, pp. 216–17; Mounce, Revelation, p. 246. 339 The people of God are closely identified with the rider on the white horse by his names (particularly  *, cf. 17:14) and by the allusion to Psalm 2 (cf. 2:26–8). See Slater, Christ and Community, pp. 229–35. 340 For example the church as true Israel (7:1–8, cf. 2:9; 3:9; 2:14, 20); tribulation (7:14, cf. 1:9; 2:9, 10); white robes (7:9–14, cf. 3:5, 18); temple (7:15; 11:1, cf. 3:12); witness (11:3, cf. 2:13); conquering (11:7; 12:11; 13:7; 15:2, cf. chs. 1–2); the book of life (13:8, cf. 3:5); the hearing formula (13:9, cf. chs. 1–2); faithfulness (13:10; 14:12, cf. 3:10, 13); and the dialectics involving naming (pp. 182–3) and sexual imagery (pp. 186–8).

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wider group of addressees, those who read or hear the Apocalypse as a prophetic letter, with the audience in the seven churches for whom he apparently writes the visions.341 Further, there are several points where he appears directly to encourage his audience to link their own history with that of the people of God in the visions.342 Finally, to ensure that the paraenetic implications of these allusions are not lost, he steps out of vision-narration mode to speak directly to the audience.343 The church is portrayed throughout these passages by a conglomerate of images drawn from the OT. It is an army, representing a reconstituted and completed Israel. But it also represents the fulfilment of the promise to Abraham, as reflected in Deutero-Isaiah’s vision of the attraction of the nations to Jerusalem. As such, it takes its shape not only from the original Israelite army escaping from Egypt (cf. 15:2), but also from the hopes of a New Exodus and the restoration of Jerusalem. Most importantly, it is a messianic army headed by Judah and the Lion of Judah, the root of David, the Lamb. Daniel 7 has been in the background of many of these passages, and the close relationship there between the ‘one like a son of man’ and the ‘saints’ is reflected by an all-pervasive motif of the intimate relationship of the people of God to the Lamb.344 This is true not only of the explicitly military images (for example 7:4–8; 14:1; 15:2–4; 17:14; 19:14) but of others as well (for example the Lamb as shepherd, 7:17; 14:4; the Lamb as source of security, 14:1; 13:8). Most particularly, it is the sacrificial death of the Lamb which is both the effective cause of the salvation and victory of the people of God and the model for their own path of discipleship (7:14; 11:8; 12:11; 14:5). The identity, life, witness, death, and resurrection of the people of God are defined by their relationship to the Lamb. But if the people of God are an army, who are their enemies and what is the nature of their conflict? Using the imagery of Daniel’s beasts, John has identified the Roman state with its imperial cult as the source of opposition to the saints. Whatever local persecutions his audience may be facing, he leaves them in no doubt as to the future violent clash of loyalties which will demand a decision from them. But at the same time, 341 The identification is achieved particularly by means of references which span these communication levels and which relate to Daniel’s son of man motif (1:7, 13; 14:14), slaves of God (1:1; 2:20; 7:3), allusion to Exod. 19:6 (1:6; 2:21; 5:10; 7:15; 11:4; 14:1), and to redemption or cleansing by the blood of Christ (1:5; 5:9; 14:3). 342 See, for example, the discussion of the crucifixion, p. 164, and the historical and spiritual setting of the story of the beast, pp. 166–7. 343 13:9–10, 18; 14:12. 344 See Beale, ‘Influence of Daniel’, p. 423.

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John’s portrayal of the enemies of the people of God has, at several important junctures, reflected by implication on John’s opponents within the churches.345 The effect of this is to reinforce the lines of demarcation, underlining the absence of any portrayal of disobedient or backslidden Christians throughout the vision. ‘He who is not for me is against me.’ With the possible exception of 11:5, nowhere in this portrayal of the people of God as an army do we see them actually engaged in offensive activity of any kind.346 Three things ensure their victory. The first is the underlying assurance, throughout these passages, of the sovereignty of God in choosing and calling his people, in protecting them, in dwelling with them, and in allowing them to experience adversity.347 The second is the effectiveness of the death of the Lamb as a means to the salvation and victory of his people.348 The third is their participation in his suffering and death as the means of appropriating his victory. The victory celebrated in 15:2 is of no other shape than the victory in 12:10. It is victory through suffering and death, not by escaping them. The picture of the followers of the Lamb, no less than that of the slaughtered souls, involves identification with the death of the Lamb. Despite the importance of the military metaphor there is no portrayal of a militant, triumphal people of God, inconsistent with the intertwined portrayal of a martyr community. The battle in which the messianic army is engaged consists of the life of the saints, and the result is a paradox. On the plane of the earth both the inhabitants of earth and the demonic forces behind political and economic power appear to oppress, conquer, and kill the saints. But precisely the same events are interpreted as victory for the saints. There is a vision beyond the battle which shows the same people celebrating victory, salvation, and eternal life. But we look in vain for another way through, for a story which gets to the sky without the cross. There is none. In the face of this cosmic drama with its bleak and wonderful outlook, three words sum up the response called for from the audience. Obedience, faithfulness, and endurance are implicitly and explicitly encouraged. This 345 346

11:3–6; 13:5–8; 14:5. See also Harland, ‘Honouring the Emperor’, pp. 118–20. J. M. Ford, ‘Shalom in the Johannine Corpus’, HBT 6 (1984), p. 67, calls Revelation as a ‘quietist or pacifist apocalyptic writing’, with a ‘complete absence of a call to arms on the part of human beings’. Yarbro Collins, ‘The Political Perspective’, pp. 244–50, finds two types of passive resistance in Revelation: the predominant one is purely passive, but the death of the martyrs evidences a second synergistic type, in which the voluntary sacrifice of one’s life obligates the deity to act in vindication. See also J. L. Coker, ‘Peace and the Apocalypse: Stanley Hauerwas and Miroslav Volf on the Eschatological Basis for Christian Nonviolence’, EQ 71 (1999), pp. 261–8. 347 See 7:2–3; 7:15c–17; 11:1–2; 13:5–15. 348 See 7:14; 11:8,11; 12:11; 13:8; 15:3; 17:14; 19:13–16.

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involves issues of allegiance and of witness. On the one hand it implies life in keeping with the commandments of God and a total avoidance of idolatry, and on the other, persistent witness to Jesus in the face of extreme hostility, including willingness to die if need be. The passages we have studied are not a self-contained sub-section of the book. There have been many points of integration with the theme of martyrdom in the previous chapter, and the ethical imperative is virtually the same as we discovered there. And just as with the theme of a martyr community, so here under the theme of a messianic community, there are innumerable loose ends, all of which point to the culmination of the visions in the New Jerusalem. There are themes which do not find their fulfilment except in the New Jerusalem (such as the Exodus theme, the reign of the saints, and the dialectic on sexuality), and there are other motifs which will be re-echoed and strengthened in the final vision (such as the twelve tribes, the dwelling of God, and the service of the saints). It is to this final section of the Apocalypse that we now turn to draw together threads from both these chapters.

6 T H E N E W J E RU S A L E M , B R I D E OF THE LAMB

6.1

Introduction

Any study of the people of God in Revelation must include consideration of the final visions or risk serious distortion of John’s message. Our primary focus has been the role of the people of God in the central chapters of the book (chs. 6–14), but the thematic threads of those chapters consistently lead towards the climax in chs. 21–2. Therefore we must conclude with a brief examination of the New Jerusalem visions. This is not an in-depth study of either these texts or the secondary literature, but rather a reflection on how the final visions relate to the themes we have traced. We shall treat three themes or, rather, clusters of themes, namely the vindication of the martyrs, the victory of the saints, and the marriage of the Lamb. Each will be treated in two ways. First, in a forward direction, we shall summarize how these themes anticipate, and in some cases require, the New Jerusalem visions for their completion. Secondly, with a backward view, we shall highlight ways in which the New Jerusalem visions fulfil or exceed the expectations which have been created, and supplement ideas about the people of God which might not have appeared incomplete in themselves. Finally, we shall consider how John makes these concepts immediate to his audience in the conclusion of the book. Discourse analysis makes it clear that John gives us two distinct vision accounts of the New Jerusalem.1 The first (21:1–8) is the final in the series of four visions that intervene between the two visions introduced by the 1 See Pattemore Discourse Structure, pp. 144, 165–6, and esp. 177–87; also Beale, Revelation, p. 1039. J. Comblin, ‘La Liturgie de la nouvelle J´erusalem (Apoc. XXI, 1–XXII, 5)’, ETL 29 (1953), p. 5, and B. W. Snyder, ‘Triple-Form and Space/Time Transitions: Literary Structuring Devices in the Apocalypse’, in E. H. Lovering Jr (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991), p. 448, consider 21:1–22:5 a single unit. P. Prigent, ‘Le Temps et le Royaume dans l’Apocalypse’ in Lambrecht, L’Apocalypse johannique, p. 232, tentatively supports Comblin, suggesting a combination of three traditions – the New Earth (21:1–8), the Heavenly Jerusalem (21:9–27), and the Eschatological Paradise (22:1–5). But although 21:1–8 begins with new heaven and new earth, it is just as concerned as 21:9–22:5 with the heavenly city. Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1115, suggests

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bowl angels. Within the scheme of this series it occupies the same place that the second and longer vision of the New Jerusalem (21:9–22:9) does in the book as a whole.2 This accounts for the repetitions and parallels which have been noted between the two accounts, and for the somewhat anti-climactic effect which is felt in moving from the speech of God on the throne (21:3–8) to the tour guided by a mere angel.3 However, for the sake of brevity, I shall sometimes treat common elements between the two visions together. 6.2

The vindication of the martyrs

The cry of the martyrs under the altar for God to vindicate them and judge ‘the inhabitants of the earth’ for their death (6:10) creates a tension which underlies much of the subsequent text of Revelation.4 The negative aspect of this cry has been answered in the judgment on Babylon and its associated kings and nations. But, by means of contextual allusion, the cry also communicates a positive dimension. It draws on the appeal to God of the exiles of Israel, which typically includes not only the destruction of Babylon, but also the restoration of Jerusalem, as found in such passages as Psalm 78 (79) and Zechariah 1. There is thus an expectation, or at least an implicit one, that the answer to the cry of the martyrs will not be complete without a future for Jerusalem. A significant structural linkage between the fifth seal and the New Jerusalem passages is developed in that it is a bowl angel, carrier of the wrath of God in response to the prayers of the saints (16:1; 21:9, cf. 8:3), who shows John both the fall of Babylon and the descent of the New Jerusalem. This compensates somewhat for the lack of lexical and semantic links between 6:9–11 and chs. 21–2, which may itself be because the consummation so far exceeds the expectation. But this is not the only theme concerning the people of God that draws its inspiration from the exilic and post-exilic hopes of Israel.5 The 144,000 that 21:1–4c and 22:3–5 were an original poetic unity, but this does not help our analysis of the text as it stands. K. E. Miller, ‘The Nuptial Eschatology of Revelation 19–22’, CBQ 60 (1998), pp. 302–9, taking the bride theme as determining structure, argues for a narrative unity of 19:5–22:9. This is less than convincing, not least because the bride theme does not pervade even the whole New Jerusalem passage. 2 See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 173–82, where the third intervening vision (20:11–15) stands in the place of the whole penultimate text sequence (19:11–21:8). 3 For parallels see McKelvey, New Temple, p. 168, n. 1; Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, p. 232. 4 See Chapter 4, pp. 84–5. 5 W. J. Dumbrell, The End of the Beginning: Revelation 21–22 and the Old Testament (The Moore Theological College Lectures 1983; Homebush West, NSW: Lancer Books, 1985), provides a useful survey of OT themes reflected in Revelation 21–2.

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sealed (7:4–8), whether viewed as an Israelite army or just as a reconstitution of the tribes, allude to the Jewish hope for an eschatological renewal of Israel.6 The blessings of the great crowd in 7:15–17 were described in words taken from Isa. 49:10 and Isa. 25:8. The latter passage anticipates the deliverance of God ‘on this mountain’ (presumably Zion, Isa. 25:6, 7, 10), while the former explicitly looks towards the restoration of Jerusalem as the goal of the New Exodus. The reference to the trampling of the ‘holy city’ (Rev. 11:2) and the allusion to Zechariah’s lampstands (11:4) with the implications (in Zechariah) for the rebuilding of the temple both contribute to the sense of expectation that city and temple will be renewed or restored. The gathering of the Lamb and his followers on Mt Zion opens further contexts, and in particular Joel 2:32, which combines ideas of salvation of a remnant, judgment of the nations, and the restoration of Judah and Jerusalem. While these themes of expectation appear on the surface as particularistic hopes of Jewish revival, there is also, running through the book, an extension of these hopes to include ‘the nations’. This operates on two levels. First, the New Israel envisaged is the multi-ethnic church. This is evident from the first mention of the people of God in the throne-room visions (5:9), and is confirmed by the reimaging of the Israelite army as a multi-ethnic crowd (7:9–17), alluding perhaps to the broader scope of the ministry of God’s servant in Isa. 49:6, and certainly to the promise to Abraham.7 But, on another level we have noticed in the background the theme of the conversion of the nations of the world, as an outcome of the witness of the multi-ethnic church.8 These hopes and expectations are climactically fulfilled, not in the restoration of old Jerusalem, but in the appearance of the New Jerusalem (21:2, 10) as part of a new creation.9 Yet if there is discontinuity, there is also continuity, evidenced by the identification in both visions of the New Jerusalem as ‘the holy city’, a common title for the old city.10 But it is the evocation of Rev. 11:2, where the ‘holy city’ trampled represented the people of God exposed to persecution in the world, which brings with it the first hint that the New Jerusalem is not so much a place for the people of God to dwell securely as a representation of the people of 6 8 9

7 See Chapter 5, pp. 136, 142–3. See Chapter 5, pp. 135–40. See Chapter 5, p. 164 and especially Bauckham, Climax, pp. 238–307. Since New Jerusalem is ‘coming down out of heaven’, it is presumably to be located on the ‘new earth’. 10 Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 231, and Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1121, suggest Isa. 52:1. But the extensive OT, intertestemental, and historical references given by Fekkes (p. 230, n. 16), suggest that the description was ‘in the air’ rather than a specific allusion to Isa. 52:1.

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God themselves.11 Although this is a surprising turn, there are elements in the cognitive environment created by the text thus far which allow it to achieve a high degree of relevance. For example, the promise to the Philadelphian conquerors (3:12), which referred to the name of the New Jerusalem, also involved making the conqueror a pillar in the temple.12 Thus the arrival of the New Jerusalem both fulfils and exceeds the hope which, implicit in the cry of the martyrs, was brought more clearly into view by the New Exodus evocations. The consummation of these hopes continues in the foreground as the voice from the throne declares,
         (21:3). This picks up, and then expands on, the earlier statement regarding those who came out of the great tribulation (7:15).13 The OT evocations are strong here, both to God’s original promise to dwell with Israel (Exod. 29:45; Lev. 26:11) and to its renewal and expansion in a post-exilic setting (Ezek. 37:27; Zech. 2:10). These contexts all presuppose that God dwells with his people in either tabernacle or temple, and this is reflected in Revelation, even in the use of the  - root twice in 21:3. Given this presupposition, the statement of 21:22,     , achieves a high degree of relevance and forces the audience to rethink their image of the city. There is, of course, a temple, as John continues to explain. God himself and the Lamb constitute the temple, and here the powers of imagination are stretched to breaking point. The interpenetration of God and his people fulfils the promises and hopes at a much deeper level. On the one hand God indwells his people (the city), 11 On 11:2 see Chapter 5, pp. 160–1. On the city as people see McKelvey, New Temple, pp. 167–76. R. H. Gundry, ‘The New Jerusalem: People as Place not Place for People’, NovT 29 (1987), pp. 254–64, argues that the New Jerusalem represents only the people of God, with no remainder of allusion to a place for them to live. This becomes increasingly difficult to sustain in the later parts of the second vision (21:24–7; 22:1–5). Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, Priester f¨ur Gott, pp. 348–50, argues that the city is distinguished from the saints. It seems rather that the imagery is fluid, suggesting both identification and distinction. 12 Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 252, comments, ‘it seems best to conclude that in the main John is here working within the circle of tradition that likens people or a community to a building or temple’. Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery, pp. 170–4, and R. H. Wilkinson, ‘The s t y l o s of Revelation 3:12 and Ancient Coronation Rites’, JBL 107 (1988), p. 500, suggests that the primary implications of the pillar are of stability for the people of God. See also Baumgarten, ‘Duodecimal Courts’, pp. 59–78; D. C. Allison, ‘4Q 403 Fragm 1, Col I, 38–46 and the Revelation to John’, RevQ 12 (1986), pp. 409–14. J. A. Draper, ‘The Twelve Apostles as Foundation Stones of the Heavenly Jerusalem and the Foundation of the Qumran Community’, Neot 22 (1988), p. 49, gives evidence of the Qumranic view of the community as a temple. See also Stevenson, Power and Place, pp. 241–51. 13 So Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, p. 234. McKelvey, New Temple, pp. 170–1, notes that through this verse the metonymic image (of a tent) disappears and God himself dwells with them.

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and on the other hand the people/city are in the temple (God).14 Access to God’s presence is open to all and his slaves worship him, fulfilling 7:15 but with a reinterpreted temple. Even more, they see his face.15 The dwelling of God with humanity is part of a fuller evocation and transformation, in Rev. 21:3, of the covenant relationship between God and Israel in which God affirms that he is their God and they are his people. Stretching back to the promise to Abraham (Gen. 17:6), affirmed in the context of the Exodus (Exod. 6:7; 29:45; Lev. 26:12, 45), and again as part of the hope of post-exilic restoration (Ezek. 37:27), this relationship has been implicit in the worship of the people of God recorded in Rev. 7:10, 12; 19:1, and is here made explicit.16 But it is possible that the unexpected plural  may be a deliberate way of marking the fact that the people of God here consists not just of Israel, even reconstituted Israel, but of all the peoples of the world.17 This reflects the way in which, throughout Revelation, the multi-ethnic church has stood in relation to God precisely as Israel stood (in particular through the use of Exod. 19:6). And this is further confirmed when the twelve gates of the city are found to have the names of the twelve tribes on them, but the twelve foundations the names of the twelve apostles, indicating that the church stands in continuity with Israel.18 But there is a further surprise in store when the nations and the kings of the earth are seen bringing their wealth into the city (21:24–6). Although the participation of the ‘nations’ in redemption has been foreshadowed, since 15:4 they have been portrayed in a wholly bad 14 So Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, p. 262. See also McKelvey, New Temple, pp. 175–6; Briggs, Jewish Temple Imagery, pp. 104–8. The absence of a temple has been thought to reflect anti-temple polemic (Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1166–7) or at least to indicate a definite break with Judaism (Beale, Revelation, p. 1091). Flusser, Judaism and the Origins of Christianity, pp. 458–9, claims that this feature is based on midrashim of Isa. 60:19, Exod. 27:20, and Ps. 132:17. See also the helpful discussion in Stevenson, Power and Place, pp. 267–72. 15 Rev. 22:4–5, cf. Exod. 24:10–11; 33:17–23. 16 God is ‘owned’ by Christ in Rev. 1:6; 3:2, 12 (and as ‘father’ in 1:6; 2:28; 3:5; 3:21; 14:1), by heavenly beings in 4:11; 5:10; 7:3; 12:10; 19:5, and by heaven itself in 16:11. Nowhere except 21:4, 7, does God explicitly ‘own’ people, in terms of the covenant formula. 17 See Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, p. 257. In favour of reading , with a A 046 2053, against !" in 051supp 205 209 1006 Byz [P] and numerous translations, see Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1110; Metzger, Textual Commentary, p. 688; and Bauckham, Climax, p. 310, who finds that particularism and universalism are combined in the vision of the New Jerusalem. 18 Rev. 21:12, 14. See Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1155–8; Beale, Revelation, p. 1070. For the twelve gates and precious stones as zodiacal signs see Malina, Genre and Message, pp. 241–3; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1156; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, pp. 320–1. Against this see Caird, Revelation, pp. 271–2; Beale, Revelation, p. 1068. For the names of the sons of Jacob on the gates of the New Jerusalem at Qumran see M. Chyutin, ‘The New Jerusalem: The Ideal City’, DSD 1 (1994), p. 84.

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light.19 And the ‘kings of the earth’ have been closely associated with Babylon and judged with her.20 Whether this new vision represents a kind of universalism or suggests that the multi-ethnic people of God have taken the place of the judged nations and kings is beyond the scope of this study to determine.21 But what is certain is that John has portrayed the New Jerusalem in terms which derive from, and yet go beyond, Isaiah’s vision of Jerusalem as a centre of pilgrimage (Isaiah 60).22 This climax to the theme of the conversion of the nations is worked out yet further in the reference to the leaves of the tree of life ‘for the healing of the nations’ (22:2) and the end of the ban of destruction (22:3).23 The martyr’s cry has been answered, but in a way which goes far beyond narrow vindictiveness to the inclusive picture of a New Jerusalem as blessing for all nations. The voice from the throne and the voice of the one sitting on the throne go on to describe the future condition of the people of God in terms which speak of the amelioration of the trauma of exile (the absence of death, mourning, and crying, 21:4) and of the vicissitudes of Exodus wandering (the supply of water, 21:6; 22:1–2; no need for sun or other lights to show the way, 21:23; 22:5), echoing the predictions of 7:15 but going further. The end of death is of particular relevance to people who have been presented with martyrdom as the logical outcome of faithful witness.24 Mourning and crying and pain may be the expected lot of Christians, but they are also the punishment for their oppressors, and in the holy

19 They are positively referred to in 5:9; 7:9; 14:6; 15:3, 4. Negative connotations predominate in 2:26; 10:11; 11:2, 9, 18; 12:5; 13:7; 14:8; 16:19; 17:15; 18:3, 23; 19:15; 20:3, 8. 20 See 17:2, 18; 18:3, 9; 19:19; also 6:15. 21 Bauckham, Climax, pp. 310–15, makes a convincing case for universalism. Similarly Sweet, Revelation, pp. 308–9; Caird, Revelation, p. 279. Against this see Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, p. 264; Beale, Revelation, pp. 1097–8 (who allows that the kings and nations may include some who had previously persecuted the church but subsequently repented). Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1172–3, argues that Revelation reflects a ‘fourth strand’ of Jewish tradition about the fate of the Gentiles, which assumes their ‘full participation in eschatological salvation’. 22 See Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 269–70; Beale, Revelation, p. 1094; Bauckham, Climax, pp. 313–14; McKelvey, New Temple, 174–5. 23 That #  (22:3) represents the µd≤te, under which the nations find themselves in Isa. 34:1–2, is convincingly argued by Bauckham, Climax, pp. 317–18. See also Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1178–9. Beale, Revelation, p. 1112, suggests a possible reference to the lifting of the curse of death from the Garden of Eden. This is contextually supported by the reference to the tree of life and to the rivers. But the MT of Genesis 3 does not use µd≤te, nor does the LXX use either #  or  # . 24 See Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 254–5; Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, p. 234; Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1125.

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city they are no more.25 The right to drink from the ‘spring of the water of life’ echoes Rev. 7:17 (and thus the promises of Isa. 49:10), but this vision goes further by drawing Isa. 55:1, where water is available without cost, into the web of allusion.26 And when the water of life reappears in the second New Jerusalem vision (22:1–2), it has drawn on Ezekiel’s vision (Ezek. 47:1–9) to become a river flowing through the city.27 Once again the realization exceeds the expectation. One further transformation of expectation occurs when the statement in 7:16 that ‘the sun will not strike them’ is reflected twice by the absence of need of sun and moon for light (21:23; 22:5).28 Finally, we note that the New Jerusalem is set within the context of a new creation (21:1). This idea directly evokes Isa. 65:17, and has not been anticipated in the text of Revelation to any significant extent.29 New heavens and a new earth might be thought to be required after the destruction of the cosmos envisaged in Rev. 6:12–17, but neither that passage nor the Synoptic Apocalypse, to which it is related, develops the idea.30 Equally surprising is the mention of the disappearance of the sea, which must be 25 $ " was to be heaped on Babylon in exchange for what she gave God’s people (18:7, 8). %& and ! " were both used by the LXX to describe the condition of the people of Israel in Egypt (Exod. 2:11; 3:7, 9). The end of %& is part of John’s evocation of Isa. 65:19–20. See Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 255–6, who parallels the whole of Rev. 21:1–4 with Isa. 65:16–20a. ! " is also the result of the fifth bowl of God’s wrath (Rev. 16:10, 11). 26 See Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1127–8, for a discussion of traditions arising from Isa. 55:1, which include, besides the Revelation references, Jn 7:37–38; Odes Sol. 30:1–2 and Jn 4:14. Beale, Revelation, pp. 1055–6, adds Jer. 2:13. 27 Beale, Revelation, p. 1056–7, rightly argues against the view of Lohmeyer, Offenbarung, p. 168, that the supply of water is for the martyrs only. See also Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 263. 28 Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1168–70, follows M. Wilcox, ‘Tradition and Redaction of Rev 21, 9–22, 5’, in Lambrecht, L’Apocalypse johannique, pp. 207–8, in seeing in this idea a reflection of a tradition similar to Targ. Isa. 60:19. 29 The only triggers to the context of Isa. 65 have been the promise of the new name (Rev. 2:17, cf. Isa. 65:15), the first reference to the New Jerusalem (Rev. 3:12, cf. Isa. 65:18), and, less likely, the reference to Zion (Rev. 14:1, cf. Isa. 65:11, 25). 30 Found elsewhere in the NT only in 2 Pet. 3:10–13. Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 227–30, and Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1117, suggest that John is following a stream of Jewish tradition which saw a new creation following the destruction of the old, rather than the renewal of the original creation. Against this see Caird, Revelation, p. 266, and Bauckham, Theology, pp. 49–50. Beale, Revelation, p. 1040, sees both continuity and discontinuity between the two creations. M. Black, ‘The New Creation in 1 Enoch’, in R. W. A. McKinney (ed.), Creation, Christ and Culture: Studies in Honour of T. F. Torrance (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1976), pp. 13–21, and J. T. Milik (ed.), The Book of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumran Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), p. 199, suggest that John depends on the new creation theme in 1 Enoch 91:16.

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read here in its symbolic sense of the forces opposed to God’s rule.31 Yet of the nature of the new creation itself little is said except for the description of the New Jerusalem, which appears to occupy the full range of John’s vision. But in the final part of the second vision, 22:1–5, John returns to the theme and fills it in with details which evoke the original Garden of Eden and focus it on the fulfilment of the needs of humanity.32 The river of the water of life evokes not only the springs of similar water (7:17; 21:6) and Ezekiel’s river (Ezek. 47:1–9), but also the river that watered the Garden of Eden (Gen. 2:10).33 The tree of life from which the primal ancestors were barred because of their sin (Gen. 2:9; 3:22–4), the fruit of which was promised to the conquerors at Ephesus (Rev. 2:7), has become an avenue of trees on either side of the river, under the influence of Ezekiel 47.34 If the contest between the dragon and the woman and her male child (Rev. 12:1–9, 13–17) evoked the scene of the fall in the Garden of Eden, then the outcome here is a gain for humanity greater than that which was lost.35 The city, which is a temple, is also a new and better Garden of Eden, with the curse reversed, the location of the closest possible intercourse between God and humanity.36 This component of John’s vision of the holy city is built on slight and tentative allusions in the body of the book, and far surpasses the expectations raised. 6.3

The victory and reign of the saints

From the very early stages of his vision narrative, John has held out to his audience the prospect of victory and its rewards. Each of the messages 31 See Beale, Revelation, pp. 1042–3, 1050–1; T. E. Schmidt, ‘ “And the Sea was no More”: Water as People, not Place’, in T. E. Schmidt and M. Silva (eds.), To Tell the Mystery: Essays on New Testament Eschatology in Honor of R. H. Gundry (JSNTSup, 100; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), pp. 233–49. 32 This is also the focus of the vision in Isa. 65:18–24. The animal imagery, so closely associated with the new creation in popular thought, occupies only one verse, Isa. 65:25, and finds no counterpart in Revelation. Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1175, finds the Paradise imagery at odds with the earlier description of the cubic city. This shift in focus leads Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, p. 232, to propose a new vision in 22:1–5. 33 See Beale, Revelation, p. 1103. 34 Beale, ibid., p. 1106, calls it a ‘collective singular’. 35 For the theme of the curse and its reversal, as reflected in Revelation 12, see P. S. Minear, ‘Far as the Curse is Found: The Point of Revelation 12:15–16’, NovT 33 (1991), pp. 71–7. 36 See Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 330. For the concept of Eden as the original temple see Beale, Revelation, pp. 1110–11. The botanical decorations on Solomon’s temple and that of Ezekiel’s vision probably reflect this tradition. (See Chapter 5, p. 145 above.) Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1177–8, points to trees of life as a metaphor for the faithful in Pss. Sol.14:3; see also Ps. 92:12–13; Isa. 61:3, 1 Enoch 93:2.

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in the first vision section includes a promise to the one who conquers.37 Those to Thyatira (2:26–8) and Laodicea (3:21) involve sharing in Christ’s rule and thus link strongly, not only with the evocation of Exod. 19:6 (Rev. 1:6; 5:10), but also with the strong and sustained contextual evocation of the fate of the ‘saints of the most high’ in Daniel 7.38 The expectation raised is that, despite the apparently overwhelming power of the forces (human and demonic) arrayed against them, and despite apparent defeat by these forces, the faithful people of God will nevertheless ultimately triumph and share in the rule of Christ. The fulfilment of this expectation has not, however, been left to the vision of the New Jerusalem. Already in the course of earlier visions John has led his audience to reinterpret their experiences of suffering, actual or potential, as victory. The dragon was overcome by faithful death-defying witnesses (12:10–11). The people emerging from the great tribulation were depicted as in a victory procession (7:9–14). And, despite the ironic use of '# to describe the beast’s power over the people of God in 13:7, the audience have also been given, in 15:2–4, a picture of those who emerge victorious from the whole episode of the beast.39 Reigning with Christ for 1,000 years was the privilege of the resurrected martyrs (20:4, 6). Thus John has ensured that his audience do not take a fatalistic or purely futuristic attitude to the prospect of their victory and reign. Yet there remains a sense of incompleteness. The dominion of the saints in Daniel 7 was eternal, but the millennial reign appears to be the prelude to further conflict (20:7–10). And the reinterpretation of suffering and death as victory raises the question of another kind of victory beyond these experiences, even as it leaves unfulfilled many of the promises to the conquerors.40 These promises are recalled and climactically fulfilled in the speech of God from the throne (21:7) in the first New Jerusalem vision. The conquerors are promised first that they will inherit ‘these things’, gathering together all the eschatological blessings of the new creation and city described in 21:1–6.41 But further, they are the objects of an adoption formula that has its roots in the installation of the Davidic king, and the 37 39 40

38 See Chapter 5, pp. 118–23 above. Rev. 2:7, 11, 17, 26–8; 3:5, 12, 21. Note also their association with the victorious Lamb in 17:14. The promise to the conquerors in Smyrna that that they will not be harmed by the second death (2:11) and the promises of ruling or reigning to those in Thyatira (2:26–8) and Laodicea (3:21) receive a partial or prospective fulfilment in 20:4–6. Part of the promise to Sardis, to be clothed in white (3:5), is fulfilled in 6:11 and prospectively in 7:9, 13–14. See Beale, Revelation, pp. 1057–8. 41 So Beale, Revelation, p. 1058. Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1129, refers only to verse 4. For a summary of the fulfilment of the promises to the conquerors in the later chapters of

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messianic promises attached to that office.42 This is the last of Revelation’s explicit allusions to Psalm 2 and forms an inclusio with the first (2:26–7) because it places the people of God in the position of the Messiah.43 Thus the theme of ruling with Christ as kings is fulfilled with the same strong link between the individual and the corporate as was found in Daniel 7.44 Several further aspects of the New Jerusalem vision also contribute to the fulfilment of the expectation of the security, victory, and reign of the saints. Notice first that entry into the holy city is guaranteed for ‘those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life’ (21:27). This is the climax to the ‘book of life’ theme, which began with the promise to the conquerors in Sardis (3:5). Subsequent references have largely been negative, referring to the actions and fate of those whose names are not in the book.45 Even though some of these allowed us to draw implicatures about those whose names are in the book, this is the only place where the positive point is explicitly made. Those whose names are in the Lamb’s book, who have not compromised with the idolatrous power systems of the world, are guaranteed a place in the eschatological kingdom.46 Secondly, there is the final and explicit declaration of the eternal reign of the people of God (22:5), fulfilling the expectations we have already described above, which derived from both Exodus and Daniel, and have permeated the book.47 Revelation see R. D. Davis, The Heavenly Court of Judgement of Revelation 4–5 (Lanham: University Press of America, 1992), p. 217. 42 2 Sam. 7:14; Ps. 2:7. By this point in the book, the overcomers who receive this adoption must be understood with Beale, Revelation, p. 1058, as ‘those whose lives are characterized by refusal to compromise their faith despite threat of persecution’. 43 The other allusions to Psalm 2 are 11:18 (the heathen filled with rage, cf. Ps. 2:1); 12:3 (the male child rules with a rod of iron, cf. Ps. 2:9); 14:1 (the Lamb on Mt Zion, cf. Ps. 2:6); 19:15 (the rider on the white horse rules with a rod of iron, cf. Ps. 2:9); 19:19 (the revolt of the kings, cf. Ps. 2:2). 44 See Beale, Revelation, p. 1058. The only previous reference in Revelation to a ‘son of God’ was to Jesus in 2:18. The complementary picture of divine fatherhood is slightly more common (Rev. 1:6; 2:28; 3:5, 21; 14:1), and always the relationship between Christ and God works for the benefit of the people of God, reinforcing the close association between the Messiah and the messianic community. 45 Rev. 13:8; 17:8; 20:12, 15. 46 Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1174, notes that entering the city here is very similar to entering the kingdom of God in the gospels. This spatial metaphor weakens the force of Gundry’s insistence that there is nothing ‘left over’ beyond the concept of ‘people as place’ (Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, p. 264). There is clear fluidity in John’s symbolism, with ‘people in place’ and ‘people as place’ as co-existing metaphors. 47 See Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1181, for the fulfilment here of Dan. 7:18, 27. Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, p. 231, says that this verse sums up the message of the whole book and traces the theme of the present and future reign of the people of God.

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Furthermore, what we earlier described as a dialectic on the concept of naming/sealing/marking, beginning in the promise to the conquerors at Philadelphia (3:12), is brought to a climax here as the slaves of God have his name on their foreheads (22:4).48 Although this was already stated of the 144,000 in 14:1, this verse does add something. Certainly it confirms the sense of belonging to God and the security this entails. But here bearing the imprint of the Name seems almost to be in parallel with ‘they shall see his face’, and suggests that they participate in the nature and character of God in the same way as the face of Moses, to whom God spoke face to face, reflected God’s glory.49 Finally, we suggested that the instruction to measure the temple in 11:1–2 also related to the theme of the sealing and security of the people of God.50 But while no measuring was described there, that lacuna is filled in by the angel measuring the whole city, including the outer courts, in 21:15–18.51 And the circle of evocation is completed in that the dimensions recall the numbers of those sealed in 7:1–8.52 Once again the security, unity, and completeness of the people of God are assured in this depiction of them as the holy city, which develops the concepts encountered earlier in more detail. 6.4

The marriage of the Lamb

The final theme relating to the people of God which finds its climax in Revelation 21–2 is that of the relationship of Christ with his people as bridegroom to bride. It is closely connected with both the clusters of themes that we have treated in the previous two sections, having emerged from both concepts, of a martyr community and a messianic community. The integration of elements of these two threads can be seen in the dialectic on sexual language discussed above.53 Sexual sin as a metaphor for spiritual infidelity was the more prominent characteristic in the earlier 48 See Chapter 5, pp. 182–3. Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1181, suggests that ‘his name’ might refer to God, the Lamb, or both. See also T. Holtz, Die Christologie der Apokalypse des Johannes (TU 85; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2nd edn, 1971), p. 202. 49 Exod. 33:11; 34:29–35. Cf. the development of this idea in 2 Cor. 3:18 in a noneschatological sense. See also Beale, Revelation, p. 1114. 50 See Chapter 5, pp. 160–2 and references there. 51 See Beale, Revelation, p. 1072; Sweet, Revelation, p. 304. 52 The total linear circumference of the city is 144,000 stadia. This section draws heavily on Ezekiel 40–8. On the significance of the measurements and shape of the city and its walls see Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1158–62, who opposes the revision of the dimensions proposed by M. Topham, ‘The Dimensions of the New Jerusalem’, ExpTim 100 (1989), pp. 417–19. See further Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, pp. 260–1; McKelvey, New Temple, pp. 172–3, 176. 53 See Chapter 5, pp. 186–8.

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part of the book (hence the ‘thesis’ of the dialectic). But at least two hints were given of the positive side of the coin. The allusion to Isa. 49:10 in Rev. 7:16–17 brought a possible contextual evocation of the bridal imagery in Isa. 49:14–18. And the image of the followers of the Lamb in 14:4 as virgins raised the expectation that the goal of their chastity was faithful union with the Lamb. These are passages which help to develop the theme of companionship with the Lamb, of which marriage is the climax. But it was one of the passages to which the theme of the martyr community led us, 19:1–8, which most explicitly portrayed the people of God as the bride of the Lamb. Yet in that passage they appear in a double role, as bride and as wedding guests, which anticipates to some extent the duality encountered in the New Jerusalem visions where the people of God are the city and its inhabitants. The two portrayals of New Jerusalem as bride share much of their vocabulary, but there are also significant differences.54 When John first records the descent of the holy city, he compares its preparation to that of a bride for her husband (21:2).55 The Lamb is not mentioned in this vision, and the immediately following words from the throne, about the dwelling of God with humanity, suggest that the context yielding optimal relevance is that created by the OT themes of Israel as bride of God.56 Yet the use of ('#), as well as the general semantic domain of marriage terminology ( *+, $,  - used together), creates an inescapable link, albeit implicit, to 19:7–9, where the marriage supper of the Lamb is anticipated. This crossover of imagery suggests that John does not sharply distinguish the relationship of Christians to Christ from their relationship to God. The second vision description is more explicit in its linkage to 19:7–9 (and to 21:2), by means of the angel’s pre-emptive interpretation of the vision of the descending city (21:9).57 And in place of the simple simile (‘prepared as a bride adorned for her husband’) is an extended metaphorical description of the decoration of the holy city (21:11–14, 18–21). The details, including the names and order of the 54 The fullest treatment of this theme in relationship to its OT background is in J. Fekkes, ‘ “His Bride has Prepared herself”: Revelation 19–21 and Isaian Nuptial Imagery’, JBL 109 (1990), pp. 269–87 (and in revised form in Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 231–3). 55 See Sch¨ ussler Fiorenza, Priester f¨ur Gott, pp. 348–50. 56 Such as Isa. 54:1–10; 61:10. See Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1121; Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 235; J. van Ruiten, ‘The Intertextual Relationship between Isaiah 65, 17–20 and Revelation 21, 1–5b’, EstB 51 (1993), pp. 489–92. 57 Aune’s analysis of the history of this text unit (Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1143–51), within which he considers  &% .   % to be a later expansion, is plausible from a relevance perspective. But lacking any manuscript evidence to support an earlier version, we consider the text as it stands.

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precious stones on the foundations, may activate a number of possible contexts including the breastplate of the High Priest (Exod. 28:21; 39:14), the decoration of Solomon’s temple (1 Kings 6:20–2), the dress of Asenath (Jos. As. 18:6), the New Jerusalem texts from Qumran, contemporary wedding customs, and astrological traditions.58 Such a rich confluence of background traditions invites a more careful analysis using the criterion of optimal relevance to determine the implicatures which John’s audience may have gained from this passage. Space will allow us only a brief look at the purposes of the passage. Although, as we pass from 21:10 to the rest of the chapter, John appears to leave behind his bridal imagery in favour of building imagery to describe the people of God, it is the bridal image which is the controlling one, structurally and semantically.59 This is a description of the people of God as a fitting partner for the Lamb, clothed in the ‘glory of God’ (21:11), and functions to enhance the self-understanding of John’s audience.60 Furthermore, it is not merely a prediction of their future status. By means of the interconnected contexts of 21:9–21, 21:1–2, and 19:7–9, the bridal attire is associated with the ‘righteous deeds of the saints’.61 The ethical responses of the people of God to their present or potential situation of suffering are a part of the adornment of the bride of the Lamb.62 6.5

Implications for John’s audience

It is intuitively obvious how Revelation 21–2 functions as a source of comfort and hope for any reader, ancient or modern, who faces the realities of life in a fallen world, and even more for anyone in the position of a ‘righteous sufferer’.63 But this study has shown that this subjective sense of 58 See Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1163–5; Beale, Revelation, pp. 1079–88; Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 237–53; Malina, Genre and Message, pp. 242–4; Chyutin, ‘New Jerusalem’; Chyutin, The New Jerusalem Scroll, p. 86; Garc´ıa Mart´ınez, Qumran and Apocalyptic, pp. 180–213; Caird, Revelation, pp. 274–7. 59 This is evident from the way 21:11–14 stands in the same place as the bridal simile in 21:2, and also by the $ ' in 21:19, which sustains, or perhaps revives, the evocation of 21:2. 60 Fekkes, Isaiah, pp. 252–3, suggests that the marriage imagery began with the description of Christ in 1:12–20. 61 See Beale, Revelation, p. 1067; and especially Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 252, who suggests that the bridal ornaments ‘reach back from the future into the present and serve as a symbolic testimony to the faithfulness of the earthly community’. Fekkes quite rightly finds the view of Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, pp. 261–2, that the adornments speak of the future wealth of the people of God, in contrast to their present poverty, unsatisfyingly prosaic. 62 Cf. 2 Cor. 4:17. 63 See, for example, J. A. du Rand, ‘The Imagery of the Heavenly Jerusalem (Revelation 21:9–22:5)’, Neot 22 (1988), p. 70.

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fulfilment reflects a specific optimization of relevance which the passage achieves regarding the theme of the people of God. Securely founded on cognitive environments already developed in earlier chapters, these chapters build extensively on the language, imagery, and allusion with which the tensions and hopes of the people of God have been portrayed. Yet it goes beyond the expected fulfilment in almost every case. Thus, for John’s original audience, it functions to comfort and assure them of the outcome of the struggle which they are either currently experiencing or will shortly experience. And it also lifts the level of their expectation by depicting the ultimate state in ways that exceed both the hopes that the text itself has engendered and the OT foreshadowings that have been evoked. Yet if the passage maximizes relevance to communicate comfort, it does so to challenge the audience as well. This is done in two ways: first, through the exclusion lists which occur in each of the two visions (21:8, 27) and secondly, by the way in which the epilogue brings elements of the New Jerusalem visions to bear on the present situation of the audience.64 The two exclusion lists within the New Jerusalem visions come as rather a surprise in their context. The three vision sequences which precede the first New Jerusalem vision have each ended with someone in the lake of fire. The beast and the false prophet (19:20) are followed there by the Devil (20:10) and finally Death and Hades and all whose names are not in the book of life (20:14–15). It seems a little forced then, when describing the bliss of the redeemed, to return to the theme of the lake of fire merely to complete the structural parallel of the four vision scenes. As a simple repetition of 20:15 it risks failure of relevance.65 These considerations, together with the greatly increased detail of the list, suggest that the statement of God in 21:8 may not be merely informative but paraenetic.66 The conquerors at Smyrna, those who respond to the challenge / +0 . . . & % '" 12'  #% (2:10), were promised that the second death would not hurt them (2:11). Here those who face the second death include those characterized by '!" and 1'" (21:8), two concepts which occur together also in the gospel narratives of the stilling of the storm.67 Faithfulness is, of course, one of the key challenges which 64 65

The third exclusion list, 22:15, participates in both these mechanisms. Since information which only repeats what is already part of the cognitive environment is not highly relevant. See Chapter 2, pp. 15–16. 66 So also Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, pp. 235–6; Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, p. 258. Prigent and Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1131, note the similarity of this list to other NT vice lists. 67 Matt. 8:26; Mark 4:40. This is a context of conflict with the sea, which in Revelation 21 has disappeared. See Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1131. These gospel parallels and

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John places before his audience.68 ! " is one of the focal terms in the sexual imagery of the book, but it is not merely a characteristic of the beast and the inhabitants of the earth. It is present among the churches, closely associated with idolatry at Pergamum and Thyatira (2:14, 20–1). Lying or falsehood, which closes all three exclusion lists, is a characteristic of the second beast or false prophet, but it too is within or close to the churches (2:2; 3:9) and by contrast the followers of the Lamb are free from it (14:5; 17:14). In the descriptions of the consummation of the hope of the saints the spotlight is turned back onto the contemporary communities themselves with the warning that those who are guilty of such practices or attitudes will have no share in the holy city.69 Once again the line of demarcation, so clearly drawn through the visionary sections, intersects the visible Christian community itself. The second list (21:27) is essentially similar to the first, although briefer, and the schematic assignation of the sinners to the lake of fire is replaced by a simple statement of exclusion of three abstracts from the city. Any implicature drawn by the audience that these lists are paraenetically addressed to them is retrospectively strengthened by the third list (22:15). It echoes the detail of the first, but it occurs in a totally different communicative context.70 Either the narrator or Jesus is addressing the audience directly, but using the precise language of the New Jerusalem vision that recently ended. This is part of a pattern throughout the epilogue of the book. The process begins with the report of the closing interview between John and the bowl angel (22:6–9) which not only concludes the New Jerusalem vision in parallel form to the end of the Babylon vision, but also provides an inclusio to the prologue, or superscription

Rev. 21:8 are the only NT occurrences of '!". See Minear, ‘Ontology and Ecclesiology’, pp. 101–2, for the contrast between the bravery called for and the cowardice excluded. 68 Christ is faithful (1:5; 3:14; 19:11). The Christians at Pergamum and Thyatira are commended for their faith (2:13, 19). The asides to the audience in 13:10 and 14:12 both call for faith, and those with the Lamb (17:14) are faithful. 69 For the paraenetic nature of the lists see Beale, Revelation, pp. 1101–2 (and of the whole vision, pp. 1119–20); B. R. Rossing, The Choice between Two Cities: Whore, Bride, and Empire in the Apocalypse (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1999), pp. 135– 65; Gundry, ‘New Jerusalem’, p. 258; Prigent ‘Le Temps’, pp. 235–6. The lists, however, do not only refer to failing Christians. Elsewhere, 0$%& occurs only as a characteristic of the beast (17:4, 5). +! ", +# , and   are things from which earth-dwellers would not repent (9:21, and see also 18:23). 70 The somewhat unexpected * " are explained by Aune, Revelation 17–22, p. 1131, as equivalent to 0%&$ '" (21:8) and referring to sodomy (cf. Deut. 23:18). M. Philonenko, ‘ “Dehors les chiens” (Apocalypse 22.16 et 4QMMT B 58–62)’, NTS 43 (1997), pp. 445–50, sees it as a spiritualized version of a Qumranic prohibition, which excluded dogs because they could defile the bones of sacrificial victims.

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(1:1–3).71 Thus even before the vision report is concluded the audience know that the vision relates to them. They are the  ' who will serve God and see his face, the consummation is part of the immediate purpose of God (3 . & $ '  #2'), and the response required of them is obedience. The blessing held out to those who ‘wash their robes’ (which, by evocation of 7:14, relates to ethical response to suffering in the great tribulation) is spelled out in terms of access to the city and the tree of life (22:14).72 The negative imperative, as we have seen, is given in terms drawn from the exclusion lists of the New Jerusalem visions (22:15). The church is caught up in the allusion to the bride (22:17), the promise of the water of life is held out to the audience themselves in their current experience (22:17), and, in a mirror-image of the beatitude of 22:14, the warning to those who remove anything from the book is of exclusion from the city and the tree of life.73 Without going into further detail, it is clear that in the epilogue, relevance can only be optimized when the hearers identify themselves with the people of God as portrayed in the New Jerusalem visions, but in doing so find themselves challenged to respond in faithful, fearless obedience and ethical behaviour, with the assurance that God’s purposes for them include both the anticipated suffering for the cause of Christ and through and beyond that, suffering, victory, and eternal bliss in God’s presence.74

71 See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 91–2, and for a detailed comparison, Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1148–9. 72 On this and other beatitudes see Cruz, ‘Beatitudes’; Minear, I Saw a New Earth, p. 214. On textual issues here see Aune, Revelation 17–22, pp. 1197–8; Metzger, Textual Commentary, p. 690; S. Goranson, ‘The Text of Revelation 22.14’, NTS 43 (1997), pp. 154–7. 73 Charles, Revelation, vol. II, pp. 179–80, and Mounce, Revelation, p. 395, see the offer of the water of life as addressed to unbelievers. But see Fekkes, Isaiah, p. 263; Prigent, ‘Le Temps’, p. 235; Satake, Gemeindeordnung, pp. 76–81, for the identification of the hearer and the thirsty one, and both with Christians. 74 To apply RT adequately to the communicative and motivational implicatures of the epilogue of Revelation would require a separate study in itself. Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 95–9, gives an outline with some of the significant references. In addition see Prigent, Apocalypse et liturgie, pp. 42–5; Snyder, ‘Triple-Form’, p. 443.

7 S U M M A RY A N D C O N C L U S I O N S

7.1

Review

The object of this study has been to investigate the depictions of the people of God as actors in the drama portrayed by John’s second main vision description (Rev. 4:1–22:9), and to understand how his audience, whether conceived of as members of the seven churches, or as a wider and less clearly defined group of addressees, would have identified with these portrayals. Further, we have sought to discover in what directions these real Asian Christians would have been moved to ‘keep the words of this book’. The distinctive methodology of the study has been the use of Relevance Theory, not as a replacement for existing methodologies, but as providing a sharper criterion for their application. A Relevance-Theoretic approach to investigating how a text would have been understood requires a knowledge of the various factors which contribute to the cognitive environment of the author and audience, and a relevance-sensitive appreciation of the internal structure of the text itself. While context in RT is not pre-defined but accessed progressively as a text unfolds, it was necessary to state a set of starting assumptions concerning the communication situation in which the Apocalypse had its origins (section 3.2). Results of detailed study of the internal structure of the text, using the optimization of relevance as an important criterion, were reported in brief (section 3.3). This resulted in the identification of three types of roles which the people of God were found to play in the Apocalypse and the location of the most significant passages on which to focus the study. The major exegetical section of this study began with John’s first explicit sighting of the people of God in the form of the souls of the slaughtered under the altar (6:9–11). We investigated its implications within the cognitive environment of the audience, and traced the theme of martyrdom which it encapsulates through several later passages which clearly evoke that first image. We then followed another image, which appeared 213

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The People of God in the Apocalypse

at first to contrast significantly with the martyr theme, namely the people of God as a messianic army. While it had significant new contributions to make to John’s portrayal of the people of God, this theme intersected with the previous one at many points and turned out to have many similar implications for the audience. Finding that both these themes had a trajectory which moved towards John’s final visions of the New Jerusalem, we concluded with a brief investigation of the way in which those visions both fulfil and exceed the expectations aroused by the early thematic portrayals of the people of God. The results of this study have been summarized and evaluated at each stage. Chapter 6 functions additionally as a summary of the patterns which John has woven into the fabric of his text.1 Therefore the final description of results presented here will be brief. We begin with an evaluation of the role which Relevance Theory has played in this study, and shall then summarize the findings, using the categories suggested by Yarbro Collins: ‘Revelation . . . provides a story in and through which the people of God discover who they are and what they are to do.’2

7.2

Relevance Theory as a hermeneutic tool

Relevance Theory has proved its usefulness at every stage of this investigation. At a fundamental level, the presumption of ostensive communication provided a theoretical basis for the prioritization of the original communication situation and the importance of historical-critical research. RT has helped to avoid the extremes of, on the one hand, a pursuit of ‘authorial intent’ on the mistaken assumption that we have an objective means of discovering it and, on the other hand, abandoning all interest in intentionality in favour of an ideologically driven imposition of meaning. Treating the text as, very precisely, a trace of a historical communication event, one that the audience would have assumed to have optimal relevance, has provided an entry point into the hermeneutical circle.3 RT provided a useful criterion both to evaluate earlier discussions of the structure of the text and to propose a structural outline which takes account of relevance.4 But many of the same advantages apply to the role of RT in investigating how the audience would have understood the text. And one of the results of relevance-guided exegesis was the discovery 1 2 3 4

See Chapter 4, pp. 113–16; Chapter 5, pp. 193–6; Chapter 6, pp. 197–212. Yarbro Collins, ‘Reading the Book of Revelation’, p. 242. See Vanhoozer, Ricoeur, p. 100, p. 113, n. 73. See Pattemore, Discourse Structure, pp. 189–93.

Summary and conclusions

215

of a large-scale semantic structure in which, by means of metalepsis, the whole story through to the appearance of the New Jerusalem is seen as a response to the cry of the martyrs (6:9–11).5 While RT has been particularly useful in handling inter-textual references, the category of ‘mutual cognitive environment’ takes into account every aspect of what is commonly called ‘context’. Thus we have considered the influence of other parts of the text itself, of prior texts, whether biblical or non-biblical, and of historical, social, political, and cultic settings, on the audience’s comprehension of a text.6 But consideration of relevance also placed limits on context, and the distinction made in Chapter 2 between contextual evocation and conventional usage proved its value when, for example, a relatively distant text or set of texts was considered to exert not a direct influence on interpretation but an indirect one, by means of its contribution to the creation of a more immediately accessible cognitive environment.7 Furthermore, we have also been able to prioritize these components and decide between competing implicatures by means of the criterion of optimal relevance.8 One of the consequences of the assumption that the text would be heard sequentially is the prioritization of earlier parts of the text itself over later parts.9 Finally, relevance considerations have proved useful in text-critical decisions, being applicable not only to the text in its original communication situation, but also to the process involved in proposed textual emendations.10 But it is important to be aware of the limitations of RT when used diachronically as in this study. The most significant limitation is due to the incompleteness of our knowledge of the cognitive environment, and even of what it is we are ignorant of. To put it simply, ‘we don’t know what we don’t know’. Yet this limitation is not unique to RT. All exegetical work on ancient texts labours under this constraint. Indeed, the fact that considerations of relevance lead to its explicit recognition can be seen as a further contribution of RT to the exegetical task. The use of RT has not eliminated all subjectivity from the process of exegesis. But again, it recognizes this limitation and seeks to minimize it by means of the assessment of the trade-off between cognitive results and processing effort. 5 6

See Chapter 4, pp. 84–6, 90–3. Examples of the influence of prior texts include the use of Daniel 7 (pp. 118–24), the traditions reflected in the Synoptic Apocalypse (pp. 125–6), and Zechariah (pp. 69–70). 7 For example, Chapter 4, pp. 72–3, 93; Chapter 5, p. 127. 8 For example in selecting the background to the sealing, Chapter 5, pp. 125–33. 9 For example, Chapter 4, pp. 71–2. 10 See the discussion on Rev. 13:10, pp. 171–3.

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7.3

‘Who they are’: the identity of the people of God

John’s depiction of Christians in the vision described in 4:1–22:9 can be understood in terms of their relationships to God, to the Lamb, to forces that oppose them and to the unbelieving world. They are shown first to be God’s own possession, indeed his slaves, occupying the same place in his purposes as historic Israel but comprising peoples of all nations as a fulfilment of the promise to the patriarchs. This has implications both for their present life and for their future destiny. As God’s people they are secure and the vicissitudes of their existence, like all human history, are located under the sovereignty of God. But further, as Israel’s story was a story with a direction from captivity to the Promised Land, so the story of the new people of God can be told in colours not only of the original Exodus from Egypt, but even more of the New Exodus from Babylon.11 This journey occupies the whole of the book, and their destiny is thus described in terms of a New Jerusalem, the dwelling place of God. More intimate is their relationship with their Messiah, the Lamb. Revelation’s ecclesiology is crucially dependent on its christology. Drawing on and extending the individual-corporate relationship between Daniel’s ‘one like a son of man’ and ‘the holy ones of the most high’, John’s portraits of the people of God show them as close companions of the Lamb, members of his messianic army. But the relationship is not merely of association. The descriptions of the people and the outline of their story reflect the nature and story of the Lamb himself. Their victory, like his and because of his, consists in their lives being offered in sacrifice, the outcome of which is salvation for the world.12 Furthermore, though the marital imagery with its alternatives of fornication and virginity is drawn from the OT depictions of the relationship of Israel to her God, in Revelation it is focussed on that between the church and the Lamb. The goal of their existence is to be united with their Lord. The people of God are opposed by forces of evil which are drawn in colours from the rich palette of ancient Near Eastern mythology and 11 This study thus supports and expands on the statement of D. A. deSilva, ‘The Persuasive Strategy of the Apocalypse: A Socio-Rhetorical Investigation of Revelation 14:6–13’, in SBL Seminar Papers 1998, Part 2 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), pp. 805–6: ‘An important aspect of the persuasive power of Revelation is its ability to set the hearers’ present situation and their present world in the interpretive context of authoritative Scriptures.’ 12 Although this could be interpreted in strictly universalistic terms (with Bauckham, Climax, pp. 238–337), it seems more likely, given the continuing interest in the fate of ‘earth-dwellers’ and the prominence of three exclusion lists in the final chapters, that we should understand it as a relative universalism in which all the tribes and nations of the earth are represented.

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apocalypticism. But the usual interpretive direction is reversed and the mythology is explained in terms of the real lives of Christians in the world of politics and economics. There they stand in direct contrast with the ‘earth-dwellers’, those who have been seduced into the idolatry of the political and economic power-structures, and who stand under the wrath of God. The lines of demarcation between the people of God and earth-dwellers are sharply drawn. If persecution is not yet widespread and official in John’s day, he certainly foresees an increasing polarization and conflict between the Christian community and the centres of power. But John’s portrayals of the people of God are not simply an objective description of something he has seen. He provides many points of integration whereby his audience are prompted to identify with the actors. The boundaries between inner and outer levels of communication are constantly being crossed. This is done directly by allusions to elements in the messages to the churches and by rare instances of direct address to his audience. But it is also done indirectly, constituting a challenge to identification with the people in the vision rather than an easy identity. Furthermore, by subtle techniques John draws a sharp line of demarcation through the visible churches, placing his opponents in the churches in the category of ‘earth-dwellers’ and outsiders. 7.4

‘What they are to do’: the task of the people of God

While Minear proposed eight distinct literary forms through which John sought to influence the behaviour of his audience, more recent studies have focussed on the categories and techniques of classical rhetoric.13 By considering the optimization of relevance we have not only recognized these forms and techniques, but have also been able to understand more clearly both how they work and in what direction they motivate the audience. While direct instruction is prominent in the first vision narrative (1:9– 3:22), there are very few examples thereafter. John does turn directly to his audience to urge ‘endurance and faith’ (13:9–11; 14:12), and the beatitudes provide another level of suggested behavioural ideals.14 But it is the identity of the people of God as portrayed in the visions which 13 Minear, I Saw a New Earth, pp. 214–23; deSilva, ‘Persuasive Strategy’; L. L. Johns, ‘The Lamb in the Rhetorical Program of the Apocalypse of John’ in SBL Seminar Papers 1997, Part 2 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), pp. 762–84; and other references listed in Chapter 1, p. 7, n. 24. 14 Rev. 1:3; 14:13; 16:15; 19:9; 20:6; 22:7, 14. See further Johns, ‘Rhetorical Program’, pp. 765–6; Hays, Moral Vision, p. 178.

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provides the contours for the audience to understand their task, as for the most part John simply narrates his visions and the audience must infer from these how they are to live their lives.15 Three methods by which John provides the motivation for such ethical deduction can be noted here. First, the fact that the identity of the people of God is so closely associated with the ‘slaughtered lamb’ carries the implication that their response to their circumstances should be like his, the sacrificial offering of their lives.16 Secondly, there is the challenge to identification mentioned above, whereby John in his depiction of either the people of God or of their enemies alludes to elements in the messages to the churches or the epistolary envelope which challenge his audience to align their behaviour with what is desirable. Thirdly, by delineating boundaries (such as the exclusion lists from the New Jerusalem), John implies that his audience should ensure that they are ‘in’ rather than ‘out’. The primary imperatives on the current lives of John’s audience, which arise in part out of the very images by which they are portrayed, can be expressed both negatively and positively. Negatively they are to resist the seduction of every form of idolatry associated with the political and economic power-structures of their society, and to endure the consequences of such resistance.17 Positively they are to remain faithful to their Lord in anticipation of ultimately being united with him. Such faithfulness requires obedience to his commands in terms of ethical conduct in the world and of true worship. It also requires them to bear witness to him. The inevitable outcome which John sees for such endurance, faithfulness, and witness is the offering of their lives to God through suffering and death, so that their witness is not merely about Jesus, but participates in the very nature of his witness. If the messages of the first vision (1:12–3:22) have urged the hearers to ‘conquer’, the images of the second vision (4:1–22:9) have not only painted this in terms of a military conflict but have ironically redefined conquering as following Jesus in the nature of his witness and death.18 The task of the people of God is crucially defined by the 15 It is perhaps for this reason that Relevance Theory, with its explanation of inferential processes, has proved to be such a useful tool. 16 See Hays, Moral Vision, pp. 176–9; Johns, ‘Rhetorical Program’, pp. 763, 784. 17 Cf. C. H. Talbert, The Apocalypse: A Reading of the Revelation of John (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994), p. 111, ‘When taken alone Revelation functions as an antidote to Christian assimilation.’ 18 This is well summarized by Johns, ‘Rhetorical Program’, p. 784, ‘The message of the Apocalypse was that whether or not they recognized it, the Asian believers were facing a life-and-death struggle – a struggle they were being invited to embrace and join. This struggle would necessarily be characterized by real conflict. But the primary weapon by which this conflict would be engaged was the weapon of faithful witness – a witness that the author fully expected would lead to their martyrdom.’

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work of Christ. While the atmosphere of apocalyptic imagery seems very different from the teachings of Jesus on discipleship, what we have here is deeply resonant with sayings like ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.’19 This is the way of identifying with the people of God, and therefore of claiming a share in their future in God’s presence. 19

Mark 8:34–5.

APPENDIX A B B R E V I AT E D D I S C O U R S E O U T L I N E

In this display of discourse structure, text-sequences are indented according to their grade (or level of embedding), and the scales at the top and bottom of the page show the position of indentation of each grade. Significant disjunctures in the text can be recognized by large movements outwards to lower grades, and by rapid entry to succesively higher grades (for example at 4:1; 7:9; 12:1; 15:1; 17:1; 19:11; 21:9; 22:10). Italicized text represents embedded text-sequences which are on a different communication level from surrounding text. Grade of text sequence 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 1:1–22:21 Apocalypse 1:1–3 Introduction 1:1–2 Title 1:3 Macarism 1:4–22:21 Letter 1:4–6 Formal letter opening 1:7–8 Prophetic messages and response 1:9–22:11 Letter body 1:9–11 Prologue to vision reports – audition of a command to write 1:12–22:9 Vision reports 1:12–3:22 John’s vision of Jesus on Patmos 1:12–16 John sees Jesus 1:17ab Reaction and response 1:17a John falls down 1:17b Jesus places his hand on John 1:17c–3:22 The words of Jesus 1:17c –20 The words of Jesus to John 2:1–3:22 The words of Jesus to the churches through John 2:1–7 Message to Ephesus 2:8–11 Message to Smyrna 2:12–17 Message to Pergamum 2:18–29 Message to Thyatira 3:1–6 Message to Sardis 3:7–13 Message to Philadelphia 3:14–22 Message to Laodicea 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 4:1–22:9 John’s vision of ‘things which must happen after this’ in heaven 4:1–11:19 Vision of the throne room, leading on to the seven seals and seven trumpets 4:1–7:8 Heavenly worship and the first six seals 4:1–2a Vision of the door in heaven and John’s journey 4:2b–11 God on his throne is worshipped in heaven 5:1–14 The scroll and the Lamb 6:1–7:8 Opening the first six seals 6:1–2 First seal 6:3–4 Second seal 6:5–6 Third seal 6:7–8 Fourth seal 6:9–11 Fifth seal 6:12–7:8 Sixth seal 6:12–17 First part of the sixth seal 7:1–8 Second part of the sixth seal 7:9–11:19 Heavenly worship and the seventh seal 7:9–17 Vision of a great crowd worshipping God and the Lamb 8:1–11:19 Opening the seventh seal 8:1 Auditory part: silence 8:2–11:19 Visual part: the seven trumpets 8:2–6 Preparation for blowing the trumpets 8:2 Seven angels given the trumpets 8:3–5 Another angel offers the prayers of the saints 8:6 Preparation to blow the trumpets 8:7–12 First four trumpets 8:7 First trumpet 8:8–9 Second trumpet 8:10–11 Third trumpet 8:12 Fourth trumpet 8:13–11:19 The last three trumpets 8:13 The woe-crying eagle 9:1–11 Fifth trumpet 9:12 Woe cry 9:13–11:13 Sixth trumpet 9:13–21 Sixth trumpet blown 10:1–11:13 Major interlude 10:1–11 The strong angel and the little scroll 11:1–13 The temple and the witnesses 11:1a John given the rod 11:1b–13 Command to measure and story of the two witnesses 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 11:1b–2 Measure the temple 11:3–13 Story of the witnesses 11:14 Woe cry 11:15–19 Seventh trumpet 11:15 Seventh trumpet blown 11:16–18 Worship of the twenty-four elders 11:19 Opening of the temple 12:1–22:9 Signs and visions in heaven 12:1–14:20 Signs and visions of confict 12:1–13:18 Visions of the dragon and the beasts 12:1–18 The woman and the dragon 12:1–2 The woman – opening situation 12:3–4 The dragon – opening situation 12:5–9 Action on two planes 12:5–6 Pursuit on earth 12:7–9 War in heaven 12:10–12 Interlude – audition of a voice in heaven – triumph song 12:13–17 Action resumes 12:18 Final state – the dragon on the seashore 13:1–18 The two beasts 13:1–8 The beast from the sea 13:1–3a Emergence of the beast 13:3b–4 Response of the earth to the beast 13:5–8 Empowering of the beast and its results 13:9–10 Direct address to the audience 13:9–10a Prophetic word 13:10b Challenge to endurance 13:11–17 The beast from the earth 13:11 Physical description 13:12–17 Actions of the earth beast 13:18 Direct address to audience 14:1–13 Visions of the Lamb and his followers 14:1–5 The Lamb and his followers 14:1 Vision of the Lamb and the 144,000 14:2–3 Audition of a voice 14:4–5 Comment on the 144,000 14:6–11 Vision of three angels 14:6–7 First angel – with gospel proclamation 14:8 Second angel – with message of the fall of Babylon 14:9–11 Third angel – with a description of the fate of the beast-worshippers 14:12 Direct address to the audience 14:13 Audition of a voice from heaven 14:14–20 Vision of the Son of Man bringing final judgment 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 14:14 Description of the scene 14:15–20: 2 Descriptions of harvest involving the cloud-sitter and three angels 14:15–16 First description 14:17–20 Second description 15:1–22:9 Signs and visions of judgment and victory, involving plague angels 15:1–16:21 Seven plague angels pour out their bowls 15:1–8 Seven angels given seven bowls 15:1 Introduction of the seven plague angels scene 15:2–4 Hymnic interlude 15:5–8 Seven angels given seven bowls 16:1–21 Seven angels pour out their bowls 16:1 Angels commanded to pour 16:2–21 Angels fulfil the command 16:2 First angel pours 16:3 Second angel pours 16:4–7 Third angel pours 16:4 Pouring of his bowl turns water to blood 16:5–6 Audition of the angel of the waters 16:7 Audition of the altar 16:8–9 Fourth angel pours 16:10–11 Fifth angel pours 16:12–16 Sixth angel pours 16:12 Preparation of the path of the kings 16:13–14 Assembling of the kings by the demons 16:15 Prophetic word and macarism 16:16 Assembly of the kings of the earth at Harmagedon 16:17–21 Seventh angel pours 17:1–19:10 First vision sequence with an angelic guide – Babylon 17:1–3a Initial interaction between John and the angel – John raptured to the desert 17:3b–19:8 Content of the revelation 17:3b–18 The woman on the beast and the angel’s explanation 17:3b–6a John’s vision – the woman on the beast 17:6b John’s response – amazement 17:7–18 Angel’s explanation of the vision 17:7 Angel offers to explain the vision 17:8–14 First part of the explanation – the beast and its horns 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 17:15–18 Second part of the explanation – the waters and the woman 18:1–24 Woe songs over Babylon 18:1–3 Another angel descends from heaven with a message 18:4–20 Another voice speaks from heaven 18:4–8 Commands to God’s people and prediction of Babylon’s fate 18:9–19 Mourning by kings, merchants, and seafarers 18:9–10 The kings will mourn 18:11–17a The merchants will mourn 18:17b–19 The seafarers mourned 18:20 Call to God’s people to rejoice for the judgment against Babylon 18:21–4 The strong angel throws a millstone; his message 19:1–8 Worship in heaven 19:1–4 Audition (and vision) of worship of the multitude 19:5 Voice from the throne 19:6–8 Further audition of worship of the multitude 19:9–10 Concluding interaction between John and the angel–John is forbidden to worship the angel 19:11–21:8 Visions of the opened heavens 19:11–21 Vision A – the victory of the rider on the white horse 19:11–16 The rider on the white horse and his army 19:17–18 The angel summons the birds 19:19–21 The result of the battle 20:1–10 Vision B – the thousand years and the defeat of Satan 20:1–3 Satan bound for 1,000 years 20:4–5a Martyrs reign for 1,000 years 20:5b–6 Explanation of double resurrection 20:7–10 Battle at the end of 1,000 years 20:11–15 Vision C – the judgment 21:1–8 Vision D – new heaven and new earth 21:1–2 Vision 21:3–4 Audition – a voice from the throne 21:5–8 Audition – three messages from the throne-sitter 21:5a First message 21:5b Second message 21:6–8 Third message 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 21:9–22:9 Second vision sequence with an angelic guide – New Jerusalem 21:9–10a Initial interaction of John and angel – John raptured to high mountain 21:10b–22:5 Content of the revelation 21:10b–14 First view of New Jerusalem 21:15–21 Angel measures the city – further description 21:15–17 Measurement and its results 21:18–21 Second description of the city 21:22–7 Third description of the city 21:22–3 Two unusual features – no temple, no sun or moon 22:24–7 People and the city – going in 22:1–5 Angel shows some more features 22:1–2 Angel shows John the river and its environs 22:3–5 Further description – who is in 22:6–9 Concluding interaction between John and the angel 22:6 Final angelic message 22:7 Jesus breaks in 22:7–9 John’s response and the angel’s refusal 22:10–11 Epilogue to vision reports – audition of the command not to seal 22:12–20 Prophetic messages and response 22:21 Formal letter closing 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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INDEX

144,000 66, 91, 117–18, 124, 135, 140–1, 174, 175, 178, 181–4, 187–91, 192, 193, 198, 207 Abraham, promise to 142, 157, 194, 199, 201, 216 abstinence military 185–6 priestly 185–6 Adler, J. E. 6, 24 affective component 25, 36 Afzal, C. 73 Alexander, J. 77 Allison, D. C. 200 Allo, E.-B. 109, 129, 130, 134, 135, 140, 144, 147, 156, 176, 177, 180, 181, 184 altar 66, 74–5, 77, 80–2, 83, 100, 161 of burnt offering 74, 75 of incense 75 Altink, W. 175 Ancient of Days 87, 108, 119, 122–3, 136 angels 82, 83–94, 95, 99, 100, 101–2, 105, 113, 124, 125–6, 128, 140, 141, 146, 160, 168, 175, 176, 184, 186, 191, 193, 207, 208, 211 anger of God 70, 98, 101, 129, 134, 217 Antipas 66, 68, 79, 110, 115, 161, 192 Apocalypse, book of authorship 1, 52–3 canonicity 1, 3, 59 date 57, 59 epistolary form 62, 218 ethical problems 2, 43, 185 genre 6–7 imagery 43–5, 46, 77, 141, 156 influence on art 1, 77 intertextuality 39–40, 43 literary context 4 neglect of 1, 2 relationship to ANE mythology 64, 216 relationship to apocalyptic 5, 6–7, 9, 56

246

relationship to Johannine literature 5, 54–5, 144, 159 relationship to liturgy 5 relationship to OT 4–5, 39–43, 55–6; see also under individual OT book names relationship to other NT literature 54, 55 relationship to Palestinian Judaism 5, 56 relationship to Qumran documents 5, 56, 57 relationship to Synoptic gospels 5, 54, 64, 73, 126, 170, 171–2, 189, 210 structure 61, 62, 64, 214, 220–5 relevance of 1, 3 text of 52 apocalypse, little (Rev. 19:11–21:8) 106, 197–8 apocalyptic literature and genre 2, 5–6, 7, 8, 9, 56, 83, 97, 128 Apollo 93, 94 Appendix, Babylon 101, 211 Jerusalem 101, 211 audience, original 3–4, 47, 210 familiarity with OT 55 self-understanding 8 social location 57–9 Aune, D. E. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8–9, 11, 39, 44, 52, 53, 54, 57, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 81, 83, 86–8, 89, 93, 94, 95, 96, 98, 99, 100–2, 104, 105, 107, 108, 109–10, 111, 113, 125, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146–7, 148, 150, 152, 153, 156–7, 159, 161, 162, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 177, 178, 179, 181, 184–5, 186, 188–90, 191, 192, 193, 197, 199, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206–7, 208–9, 210, 211–12

Index Aus, R. D. 94 Austin, J. L. 32 Babylon 66, 85, 90, 91, 92, 100–2, 105, 106, 108, 113, 157, 163, 179, 202, 203, 216 fall of 101, 102, 103, 105, 158, 187, 198 Bachmann, M. 70 Balaam 136, 162, 186 Balch, D. 57 baptism 132, 152 Barr, D. L. 2, 3, 7, 10, 43, 53, 54, 59 Bartholomew, C. 33 Baruch, Second 88, 132 Apocalypse 128 Syriac 131 Bauckham, R. 7, 9, 40–1, 42, 44, 53, 56, 83, 88–9, 93, 101, 104, 135, 137–8, 139, 141, 145, 147, 148, 150, 151, 160–1, 162, 164–5, 166, 167, 173, 175, 176–7, 180, 181, 185, 190, 191, 199, 201–2, 203, 210, 216 Baumgarten, J. M. 56, 200 Beagley, A. J. 58, 93, 103, 140, 166, 167, 171, 174 Beale, G. K. 4, 5, 7, 11, 41, 43, 52, 53, 54, 56, 57, 61, 69, 70, 71–2, 73, 75, 76, 78, 79–80, 81, 84, 86, 88, 94, 95, 96, 98–9, 100–1, 102, 103, 104, 105, 107, 110–11, 112–13, 123, 125, 126–8, 129, 130, 133, 134–47, 148, 150, 152, 155, 156, 157, 159, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165–6, 167, 168, 169–73, 174, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188–92, 193, 194, 197, 201, 202, 203–4, 206, 207, 209, 211 Beardsley, M. C. 23 Beasley-Murray, G. R. 77, 80, 94, 95, 100, 102, 103, 104, 108, 109, 110, 113, 126, 128, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 141, 144, 145, 147, 148, 150, 156, 157, 165, 166, 167, 169, 170, 171, 177, 178, 180, 181, 184, 185, 190, 191, 192, 193, 201, 204 beast, beasts 66, 71–2, 91, 92, 93, 97, 99–100, 101, 102, 104, 106, 107, 108, 110, 111, 113, 118, 124, 138, 163, 164–6, 170, 172–5, 178, 179, 182, 184, 187, 190–1, 193, 210, 211 Daniel’s 70, 124, 127, 160, 166, 167, 170, 175, 194 first (sea) 111, 166–70, 172 image of 110 mark of 110, 173–4, 182, 190

247 number of 174 second (land) 110, 167, 172, 173–4, 211 victory of 168, 169, 170, 192, 205 worshippers of 124 beatitudes 65, 212, 217 beheading 110 Bell, A. A. 57 Betz, O. 56 Black, M. 203 Blakemore, D. 21, 42, 53 Blass, R. 34, 61 blood 76, 77, 80, 84, 85, 90, 92, 99 of Lamb 95, 97, 112, 141, 152–3, 175 Bogaert, P.-M. 88 book of life 106, 168, 169–70, 175, 206, 210 Borgen, P. 4, 136 Boring, M. E. 1, 5, 43–4, 45, 46, 51, 57, 58, 76, 79–81, 97, 103, 104, 110, 114, 125, 130, 132, 134, 135, 136, 141, 166, 167, 175, 181, 185, 186, 193 Borsch, F. H. 121, 122 Botha, P. J. J. 58, 167 Bousset, W. 135, 176–7, 181 Bowker, J. 152 bowls, seven 63, 90, 92, 98–9, 100–2, 124, 130 first 99 seventh 100–1 Braun, H. 5 Brent, A. 57 bride of Lamb 85, 105, 106, 118, 158, 191, 193, 207–9, 212 garments of 87 Briggs, R. A. 57, 74–5, 81, 99, 200, 201 Brock, S. P. 185 Br¨utsch, C. S. 180 Caird, G. B. 30, 75, 77, 79, 80, 86, 89, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 101, 103, 104, 107, 130, 131, 132, 134, 138, 143, 145, 153, 156, 165, 166, 168, 169, 170, 171, 173, 174, 177–8, 180, 185, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 201, 202, 203, 209 Callahan, A. D. 56, 104 Cambier, J. 4, 148 Carey, F. 1 Carrell, P. R. 83, 121, 122, 123, 136, 177, 192 Carston, R. 21 Casey, J. S. 99, 130, 133, 178, 180 Casey, M. 119–21, 122, 127, 176 Cathcart, K. J. 72 celibacy 185

248

Index

census 137, 138–40 challenge to identification 68, 93, 97, 98, 103, 106, 111, 115, 212, 217, 218 Charles, R. H. 1, 39, 53, 54, 55, 57, 73, 74, 75, 78, 81, 83, 86–9, 94, 95, 96, 99, 100, 108, 111, 112, 125, 129, 130–2, 133, 134, 135, 140, 147, 148, 155, 169, 171, 173, 180, 181, 184, 189, 191, 212 Charlesworth, J. H. 5, 56 Chilton, B. 56 Christ 83, 87–8, 94, 95, 106, 114, 115, 121, 126, 137, 164, 191, 192, 201, 206, 211, 219 death of 95, 97, 112, 114, 152, 175 name of 145 reign of 112, 116, 205 victory of 89, 95, 174–5 see also Jesus christology 9, 83, 114, 118 and ecclesiology 9 church, churches 8, 54–7, 71, 80, 96, 121, 136, 151, 162, 163, 168, 190, 194 as martyr community 80, 82, 88, 90, 96, 98, 106, 110, 114–15, 117, 133, 196, 207 as messianic army 141, 216 as new Israel 139 conflict (internal and external) 58, 59 multi-ethnic 199, 201–2 of Asia Minor 4, 9, 10, 40, 55, 112, 114, 115, 153–4, 158, 162, 172, 176, 194, 195, 211, 213 relationship to actors 193 Chyutin, M. 5, 24, 201, 209 cities, of Asia Minor 58, 59 Clark, B. 23 Clark, H. 24 cognitive dissonance 58 cognitive effects 24, 25, 31, 35, 36, 108, 109, 111, 127, 131, 132, 133, 137, 138, 141, 148, 154, 172, 175, 178, 179–80, 187, 215 in intertextuality 37, 40 cognitive environment 15–16, 29–31, 35, 49–50, 51, 74, 84, 85, 87, 93, 95, 110, 118, 125, 131, 132, 142, 147, 177, 185, 200, 210, 213, 215 for discourse structure 61 in intertextuality 36–7, 38–9, 40 mutual 15, 29, 37, 41, 47, 51, 54, 55–6, 63, 215 non-textual 38–9 textual 37–8, 53, 60

Cohn, N. 1 Coker, J. L. 195 Collingwood, R. H. 31 Collins, J. J. 5–6, 7, 119, 122, 176 Comblin, J. 119–21, 123, 136, 176, 197 commerce 58, 104, 179 communication 13–20 code model 13 situation (or axis) 15, 23, 29, 30–1, 52, 53–4, 63, 65, 170, 214 conquerors (overcomers) 77, 79, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 100, 112, 114, 115, 123, 145, 146, 154, 155, 170, 171, 174, 175, 177, 178, 182, 184, 200, 204, 205–6, 207, 210 context 47, 110, 213, 215 choice of, search for 17, 26, 35, 46, 47–8, 51 in text 23, 37–8, 42–3, 48–9, 53–4, 60–4 of the apocalypse 4, 11, 51–60 contextual effects 17, 42, 50 contextual evocation 42, 148, 215 contextual implications and implicatures 15–16, 41 conventional usage 42, 148, 215 Coppens, J. 121 Corsini, E. 54 Cotterell, P. 32 Cook, S. L. 2, 6 Court, J. M. 1, 4, 55, 93 Coutsompos, P. 57 covenant 131, 136 curses 71–3, 131 cross, crucifixion 95, 163–4, 194, 195 crowd 82, 102–3, 115, 140–59, 184, 190–1, 199 Cruz, V. P. 167–8 Culler, J. 36 Daniel 64, 72, 87, 101, 108, 118–24, 126, 127, 136, 142–3, 148, 150, 151, 154, 155, 160–1, 163, 164, 165, 169, 170, 173, 174–5, 176, 177, 179, 186, 193, 194, 205, 206, 215, 216 David 137, 139, 140, 157, 159, 178, 180, 205 root of 136, 139, 194 Davis, R. D. 206 Day, J. 69, 93, 165 deixis 30, 170 Delcor, M. 123 de Moor, J. C. 178 de Villiers, P. G. R. 163

Index demonic horde 135, 160, 163, 195 deSilva, D. A. 7, 57, 59, 167, 216, 217 Deuteronomy 154, 178 disambiguation 18 discipleship 9, 187, 189, 219 discourse analysis 32–3, 45 discourse segmentation 60 discourse structure 11, 46, 48–9, 60, 214 of the Apocalypse 61, 64, 197–8, 220–5 Dodd, C. H. 37, 38 Domitian 57, 74 Downing, F. G. 57 dragon 66, 91, 92, 94, 95, 96–7, 99, 100, 101, 107, 124, 165, 166, 169, 175, 179, 204, 205 Draper, J. A. 140, 200 du Rand, J. A. 178, 209 Duff, P. B. 59 Dumbrell, W. J. 198 Dunton, H. 2 dwelling of God (with humanity) 156–7, 158, 162, 168, 196, 200–1, 207, 216 earth-dwellers 84, 85, 93, 100, 102, 134, 143, 164, 167, 168, 169, 195, 198, 211, 216, 217 echoes 37–8, 39, 41, 42 Egypt 98, 99, 100, 136, 154, 163 elders, twenty-four 66, 68, 69, 87, 94, 107–8, 135, 141, 184 one of 146–7, 149 Elijah 162 Ellingworth, P. 79 Elliott, S. M. 104 Emmerson, R. K. 1 emperor cult 57, 167, 173, 194 encoding/decoding 14 endurance 153, 170, 172, 175, 176, 195, 217 Enoch, First 80, 83, 87, 88, 128, 159, 186, 203, 204 Similitudes 176 enrichment 18 Enroth, A.-M. 5, 170–1 Ephesus 55, 104, 190, 204 epistolary form – see Apocalypse eschaton 88, 89 Esdras, First 98, 155 ethical choices, imperatives, behaviour 73, 87–8, 97, 104, 105, 115, 143, 150, 152, 156, 176, 209, 212, 217, 218 ethical problems – see Apocalypse Evans, C. A. 38 exclusion lists 210–11, 216, 218

249 Exodus 75, 86, 98–9, 112, 129, 130, 132, 136, 139, 149, 151, 154, 156, 170, 177, 178, 180, 182, 185, 196, 200, 201, 203, 205, 207, 209, 216 New 154, 157, 174, 194, 199, 216 explicatures 18 Ezekiel 71, 72, 95, 113, 123, 128, 136, 145, 151, 157, 158–9, 186, 200, 201, 203, 204 Ezra, Fourth 88, 176, 180 faith, faithfulness 149, 153, 155, 161, 164, 165, 170, 172, 175, 176, 178, 179, 192, 195, 202, 210, 211, 217, 218 Farrer, A. 42, 44, 73, 74, 75, 77, 80, 81, 86, 111, 113, 126, 128, 132, 138, 165, 168, 169, 171, 177, 190, 193 Fekkes, J. 5, 39–40, 128, 150, 151, 157, 158, 165, 191, 199, 200, 202–3, 208, 209, 212 Feuillet, A. 70, 78, 121, 122, 135, 140 Flusser, D. 4, 201 Ford, J. M. 53, 57, 83, 158, 195 fornication 101, 102, 186–7, 211, 216 France, R. T. 34 Frankfurter, D. 56 Friesen, S. 4, 47, 58, 167 Fudge, E. 175 Furlong, A. 26–7, 30 Gager, J. G. 58, 59, 100 Garc´ıa Martinez, F. 209 Garden of Eden 202, 204 garments – see robes Garrison, R. 4 Garrow, A. J. P. 10, 32, 53–4, 57, 133, 134, 141, 153, 173–4 Genesis 81, 82, 93, 96, 137, 142, 149, 150, 151–2, 201, 202, 204 Geyser, A. S. 139 Gibbs, R. W. 28 Giblin, C. H. 161 Goldingay, J. 119 Goranson, S. 137, 176, 212 Gordon, R. P. 72 Goulder, M. 174 Greco-Roman world 57, 95, 190 religion 57, 167 Green, C. 33 Green, K. 23 Green, W. S. 38 Greenup 157 Grice, H. P. 14 Grootheast, D. van 34

250

Index

Gundry, R. H. 200, 201, 202, 206, 207, 209, 210, 211 Gunkel, H. 93 Guthrie, D. 118 Guthrie, G. H. 60 Gutt, E.-A. 34–5, 36, 46 Hanson, P. D. 2, 6 Harland, P. A. 58, 174, 195 Harrington, W. J. 73, 95, 100, 103, 104, 105, 128–58, 174, 175, 178, 180, 185 Hartman L. 7, 54 harvest 177, 190 Hays, R. B. 37–8, 40, 42, 170, 218 Heil, J. P. 68, 74, 83, 90, 95, 97, 100, 101, 113, 114 Hellholm, D. 6, 59, 60 Hemer, C. J. 4, 58, 173, 174 hermeneutics 32–3, 37 Herzer, J. 70 Higashimori, I. 21 Hill, D. 70, 89 Hirschberg, P. 139 Hollander, J. 37, 43 Holtz, T. 207 holy city 199, 204, 206, 208, 211 Homcy, S. L. 97 Hooker, M. D. 121 horses, four, and their riders 69–71, 126–7 and chariots (Zechariah) 126–7 white, and rider 111–12, 192, 193 Hosea 186 Hurtgen, J. E. 59 Hutton, R. R. 162 idolatry 138, 167–73, 178, 187, 194, 196, 211, 218 implicatures 18, 215 strong 19, 44, 158, 169, 181, 182 weak 19, 37–8 (intertextuality), 44, 84, 87, 111, 134, 139, 142, 152, 181, 182; poetic effects produced by 19–20 incense (prayers) 66, 68, 160 inference 13, 14 and imagery 44 intention 16, 23, 28 authorial 27, 36, 39–40, 41, 43, 47, 214 communicative 16, 29, 36 informative 16, 29 intentional fallacy 23, 47 interpretation – exegetical, eisegetical, literary, spontaneous 26–7 interpretive resemblance 24, 34

intertextuality 5, 39–43, 215 Irenaeus 57 irony – explained by RT 20 Isaiah 64, 75, 94, 98, 112, 123, 132, 136, 139, 146, 150, 152, 154, 157–8, 159, 180, 186, 191, 199, 202, 203, 204, 208 Isaiah, Ascension of 86 Israel 100, 139, 142, 157, 180, 186 as bride of God 190, 208 as people of God 136, 201 hope of 142, 155 restoration of 139, 142, 157, 180, 199, 201 tribes of 130, 135–40, 141 Jack, A. M. 2, 39 Jeremiah 71, 72, 104, 109, 125, 171–2, 186, 190, 203 Jerusalem 70, 84, 85, 90, 95, 101, 112, 146, 157, 158, 180, 194, 199 New 66, 84, 85, 90, 91, 92, 103, 106, 113, 129, 145, 158, 162, 170, 179, 180, 182, 187, 196, 197–212, 214, 216 Jesus 54, 65, 84, 87, 189, 206, 211, 219 as witness 78, 96, 161 blood of 85, 112 death of 54 resurrection of 54, 112 testimony of 89, 92, 97, 105, 114, 169 witness to 96, 97, 106, 192, 218 see also Christ Jezebel 101, 102, 136, 147, 162, 167, 186 Joel 98, 150, 177, 180, 199 Johannine writings – see Apocalypse John, author of Apocalypse 52–3, 55, 56, 74, 130, 131, 133, 144, 160, 171 as narrator 66, 68, 69, 73, 84, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 105, 107, 109, 112, 113, 115, 123, 124, 126, 134, 140, 146–7, 154, 156, 163, 167, 170, 177, 185, 193, 217–18 as witness 78, 79, 161 language familiarity 55–6 Johns, L. L. 217, 218 Johnson, M. 20 Johnson, S. E. 4 J¨orns, K.-P. 94 Joshua 154 Jucker, A. H. 21 Judge, E. A. 174 judgment 5, 90, 92, 98–100, 101, 102–3, 106, 108, 113, 114, 124, 128, 133, 134, 177, 180

Index Karrer, M. 5, 7 Kaufman, S. A. 56 Kempson, R. M. 21 Kerkeslager, A. 70 Kim, S. 123 King of Kings 111 Kings, First and Second 81, 109, 111, 113, 156, 186, 209 kings of the earth 102, 106, 201–2 kingdom 130 of God 95, 111, 163, 165, 189, 206 of the saints 121, 122, 123, 127, 167, 175, 176–8 Kirby, J. T. 7, 9–10 Klassen, W. 83, 113 Klauck, H.-J. 166 Knight, J. 59, 77 Koch, K. 6 Koester, C. R. 148, 156, 158 Kovacs, J. L. 35 Kraft, H. 75, 78, 110, 125, 130, 158, 176 Kraybill, J. N. 7, 58, 59, 174 Krodel, G. A. 128, 135, 140, 148, 152, 156, 177, 185–6 Kvanvig, H. S. 6, 119 Lacocque, A. 121–2 lake of fire 106, 210, 211 Lakoff, G. 20 Lamb 69, 78, 85, 95, 104, 111, 115, 118, 123, 124, 130, 143, 146, 152, 160, 169, 174, 175, 179–82, 184, 191–2, 194, 199, 200, 206, 208, 211 as shepherd 158–9, 189, 194 death of 66, 85, 97, 142, 152–3, 154, 165, 179, 189, 194, 195 followers of 66, 113, 117–18, 123, 124, 174, 179–82, 184, 191, 195, 199, 208, 211 marriage of 86, 105, 106, 192, 207–9 name of 118, 134, 173, 190 slaughtered 78, 80, 85, 89, 95, 105, 114, 123, 136, 137, 141–2, 169, 191, 218 song of 178 worship of 66, 68 victory of 145, 178, 189, 192 Lambrecht, J. 6, 58, 61, 101 lampstands, two 161–2 Lancellotti, A. 4, 56 Laodicea 6, 55, 87, 105, 112, 153, 154, 205 Levinson, S. 13, 30 Leviticus 77, 80, 81, 86, 144, 149–50, 200, 201

251 Lindars, B. 177 Linton, G. 7, 39 lion (of Judah) 69, 80, 136, 137, 139, 141–2, 180, 182, 194 Lohmeyer, E. 74, 86, 135, 156, 161, 177, 184, 185, 203 Louw, J. P. 87, 108, 156 Lund, N. W. 167 McArthur, H. 185 Maccabees, First 98, 135 Maccabeus, Judas 145 McGinn, B. 1 McIlraith, D. A. 87 McKelvey, R. J. 7, 156, 161, 162, 198, 200–1, 202, 207 MacKenzie, I. 25 MacMahon, B. 23 McNamara, M. 5 Malina, B. J. 7, 74, 75, 81, 201, 209 manifestness 15 mutual 15 Marshall, I. H. 112, 177 Martyn, J. L. 47 martyrs, martyrdom 66, 68, 76, 78–9, 80, 81–2, 83, 85, 95, 96, 97, 98, 100, 102, 103, 105, 109, 111, 112, 113, 133, 143, 149, 152, 160, 164, 168, 172–5, 184, 189, 192, 193, 202, 205, 213 cry for vindication 82–3, 86, 90, 92, 93, 99, 100, 101–2, 103, 106, 111, 113, 160, 198, 200 response to 86–90, 112 master (despotes) 76, 82 Mazzaferri, F. 7, 78 Meadowcroft, T. J. 118, 119, 121, 122 Mealy, J. W. 53, 78, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111 meanings, multiple 24–5 Meeks, W. A. 55, 57 merchants 102 messages, seven 99, 114, 115, 153, 170–1, 193, 204, 218 Messiah 95, 111–12, 114, 123, 128, 137, 140, 141, 143, 151, 157, 158–9, 165, 177, 178, 180–1, 206, 216 messianic army (144,000) 9, 139, 140, 141, 181, 214, 216 messianic community 151–2, 159, 196, 206, 207 metalepsis 37–8, 43, 122, 162, 171, 180 metaphor 20, 43–5 explained by RT 20, 25, 43–5 Metzger, B. M. 168, 171, 201, 212

252

Index

Michaelis, W. 167–8 Michaels, J. R. 4, 7, 73, 76, 77, 80–1, 82, 96, 99, 104, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 113, 125, 126, 131, 134, 141, 143, 144, 146, 153, 161, 166, 169, 172, 174, 176, 181, 184, 185, 186, 187, 189, 191, 193 Michel, O. 155 Milik, J. T. 203 millenarianism 2 millennium – see thousand years Miller, K. E. 198 Minear, P. S. 8, 163, 166, 204, 211, 212, 217 Moberly, R. B. 57 M¨oller, K. 33 Moore, S. D. 2, 47 Morris, C. W. 13 Moses 136, 162, 174, 178, 207 Mounce, R. H. 44, 71, 75, 81, 84, 86, 89, 94, 100, 102–3, 104, 105, 108, 110, 125, 128, 129, 132, 133, 134, 135, 138, 140, 143, 148, 150, 153, 156, 157, 165, 166, 168, 169, 174, 177, 178, 180–93, 212 Mowry, L. 5 Moyise, S. 5, 39, 40, 56 M¨uller, E. 61 multitude – see crowd Murphy, F. J. 75, 96, 99, 100, 104, 131, 143, 157, 165, 166, 171, 174, 185, 186, 193 Mussies, G. 100 Musvosvi, J. N. 75–6, 79, 80, 81, 83 myth, mythology 93–5, 96–7, 99, 165, 216 Babylonian 64, 119 Canaanite 64, 93 name of God/Lamb 134, 181–2 (on foreheads) 182, 190, 207 narrative characterization 8 narrative levels 10 nations and beast 101, 102, 175 as people of God 136, 141, 142–3, 157, 175 conversion of 124, 139, 158, 194, 199, 201–2 judgment 175, 180, 191, 193, 216 ransomed 85, 189 Nehemiah 144 Nero 59, 79, 166 Neusner, J. 56

new creation (new heaven and new earth) 106, 197, 199, 203, 205 Newport, K. G. C. 1, 2, 178 Nida, E. A. 87, 108, 156 Nielsen, K. 159 Numbers 138, 139, 149, 155 O’Donovan, O. 163, 166, 174 Olson, D. C. 186, 187 optimal relevance 17–18, 31, 44, 46, 49, 52, 87, 107, 129, 139, 149, 166, 208, 209, 210, 214 cf. maximal 27 in intertextuality 6, 41, 42 of Apocalypse (canonicity) 59 ostension 16, 28 ostensive-inferential communication 16, 24, 28, 29, 214 Oswalt, J. N. 74–5 Ozanne, C. G. 56 palm branches 95 Parousia 45, 58, 122 participant reference 61 Passover 130, 133 Patmos 78 Pattemore, S. W. 11, 36, 89, 186 Discourse Structure 11, 32, 34, 35, 36, 62, 69, 101, 106, 118, 125, 140, 164, 170, 197, 212, 214 Paul (of Tarsus) 54 letters of 54, 55 Paulien, J. 2, 4, 39, 40, 42, 56 people of God 8, 9, 71–3, 76, 84, 91, 92, 93, 101, 103–6, 115, 117–18, 121, 127, 128, 132, 134, 153, 158, 161, 164, 168, 171, 172, 173, 174–5, 177, 179, 180, 181, 184, 187, 188–91, 193, 197, 199, 206, 210 as actors 65–7, 73, 77, 91, 125, 135, 140, 213 as addressees 64–5, 104, 194, 213 as audience 65, 73, 77, 88–90, 93–4, 97, 193, 194, 213 as kings and priests 112, 130, 137 as martyr community 82, 108, 112, 114–15; see also martyrs as messianic army 150, 159–60, 185, 192, 193, 194, 195, 199, 214, 216 as new Israel 136, 139, 201–2, 216 as New Jerusalem 199, 200, 206, 208, 209 blood of 84, 85, 90, 92, 99, 102, 141 bride of Lamb 85, 105, 158, 187, 191

Index discourse location 60, 64–7 final bliss 202 identity and motivation 10, 216–19 multi-ethnic 141, 142, 155, 199, 201–2 reign of (eternal) 111, 116, 196, 204–6 reign of (millennial) 111, 112, 114, 205 relationship to Christ/Lamb 8, 9, 68, 78, 80, 82, 87–8, 89, 114, 115, 117–18, 137, 143, 152, 159, 165, 175, 179, 184, 187, 190–1, 194, 207, 208, 216, 218 resurrection 164 security of 207 victory of 66, 68, 104, 114, 116, 117, 159, 165, 168, 174–9, 189, 195, 204–6, 212, 218 vindication of 66, 84, 85, 88, 89, 92, 103, 106, 108, 112, 113, 116, 167 Pergamum 73, 79, 104, 162, 167, 211 persecution 58, 59, 73, 79, 148, 153, 161, 164, 172, 173, 192, 194, 206 Philadelphia 82, 145, 154, 155, 182, 190, 200, 207 Philonenko, M. 211 Pilkington, A. 23, 25–6 Pippin, T. 1, 2, 47, 77, 185 plagues (of Egypt and Apocalypse) 98–9, 101, 130, 160, 162, 187 poetic effects and RT 25–6 Poirier, J. C. 70 Poythress, V. S. 107 pragmatics 13, 20–1 prayers of the saints 66, 68, 76–7, 82, 83, 99, 101, 108, 160, 161 Pr´evost, J.-P. 77 priests, priesthood 86, 111–12, 130, 155–6, 182 Prigent, P. 4, 5, 93, 94, 95, 96, 125, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 136, 138, 140, 142, 143, 145, 146, 147, 148, 152, 153, 155, 156, 160, 161, 163–4, 176–7, 179, 180, 181, 184, 185, 186, 187, 189, 190, 197, 198, 200, 202, 204, 206, 210, 211, 212 processing effort 17, 26, 31, 35, 49, 50, 80, 96, 107, 131, 148, 187, 215 in intertextuality 37, 40, 42 prophecy 45, 65, 110, 162, 171 prophets 8, 53, 66, 89, 99, 105, 108 false 106, 167, 210, 211 Psalms 84, 94, 109, 145, 149–50, 152, 158–9, 170, 180, 185, 191, 192, 193, 201, 204, 206 Psalms of Solomon 72, 73, 131, 204

253 Qumran 56, 57, 135, 137, 148, 176, 192, 200, 211 rabbinic writings 56, 57 R¨ais¨anen, H. 59 Ramsay, W. M. 4, 58 Reader, W. 160, 163 Reddish, M. G. 80, 86, 94, 98, 109, 114, 131, 133, 134, 161, 163, 164 Redditt, P. L. 118 redemption 68, 69, 101, 112, 141, 142, 152, 164, 184, 189–90, 201 Reed, J. T. 61 reference assignment 18 relevance 16–18, 57, 104, 161, 168, 175, 200 diachronic 43 extent conditions 16–17 first principle 17–18 in textual and non-textual environments 39 second principle 17, 18, 30, 42, 48, 52 synchronic 43 Relevance: Communication and Cognition 13, 14–20, 21, 22–3, 24, 29, 33, 38, 42 Relevance Theory 3, 10–11, 13–50, 51, 93, 137, 151, 212, 213, 214–15, 218 and biblical studies 21, 31–2, 46–50 and discourse analysis 60–2 and fiction 24 and intertextuality 36–43 and literary interpretation 21, 22–8, 31 and poetry 25–6 and Speech Act theory 32 and texts 22–3 and translation 34–6 developments in 20–1 glossary of terms 21, 46 reactions to 20 surveys and bibliographies 21 web-sites 21 Resseguie, J. L. 8 Revelation, book of – see Apocalypse, book of rhetorical situation 9–10 rhetorical strategy, technique 7, 9, 68, 88, 216, 217 Ricoeur, P. 28, 30 Rissi, M. 70 robes 76, 87 washing 149–53, 212 white 77, 86, 88, 103, 105, 114, 115, 143–4, 146, 149–53, 205

254

Index

Robinson, J. A. T. 57 Roloff, J. 1, 2, 73, 76, 77–8, 80, 81, 84, 86, 96, 97, 99, 100, 103, 104, 108, 125, 126, 128, 131, 132, 135, 136, 138, 140, 143, 145, 154, 156, 157, 166, 172, 177, 178, 181, 184, 185, 193 Roman Empire 57, 58, 102, 110, 166, 168–9, 194 Rome 101, 105, 179 Rossing, B. R. 211 Rouchota, V. 21 Rowland, C. 57 Rowley, H. H. 6 Royalty, R. M. 7 Ruiten, J. van 208 Ruiz, J.-P. 4, 5, 105, 123 Russell, D. S. 6 Sacchi, P. 6 sacrifice 77, 80, 81, 96, 114, 116, 136, 141, 175, 189, 190–1 Sahuget, C. 77 saints 8, 66, 83, 90, 99, 103, 105, 108, 111, 112, 116, 193, 195 blood of 83, 101 defeated by beast 111, 168, 169, 170, 192 of the Most High (Daniel) 108, 118, 119–23, 127, 167, 169, 170, 175, 186, 194, 205, 216 reign of 117, 167, 175, 204–6 righteous deeds of 83 war on 160, 168, 172–3 see also prayers of the saints salvation 86, 95, 103, 145–6, 149, 165, 181, 195, 216 Sandeen, E. R. 2 Sardis 77, 87, 105, 153, 170, 187, 205, 206 Satake, A. 96, 99, 105, 181, 185, 212 Satan (devil) 108, 112, 114, 167, 190, 210 Schaberg, J. 122 Schaik, A. P. van 176–7 Scherrer, S. J. 167 Schlier, H. 148 Schmidt, T. E. 204 Schneemelcher, W. 86 Scholer, D. M. 185 Schrenk, G. 156 Sch¨ussler Fiorenza, E. 2, 7, 8–9, 44, 55, 58, 59, 61, 75, 83, 84, 86, 100, 102, 103, 106, 107, 112, 125, 128, 129–30, 132, 133, 134, 138, 140, 146, 148, 152, 166, 167, 170, 173, 174, 176–7,

178, 179, 180–1, 182, 184, 185, 186, 187, 189, 200, 208 Schwartz, J. 177 Scobie, C. H. H. 4 scroll 68, 69, 89, 129, 132 sea 126, 127, 128, 177, 179, 203, 210 seal (of God), signet 128–9, 133, 160, 174, 182 sealing (the servants of God) 118, 128–33, 134, 160, 181, 191, 198, 207 seals, seven 63, 66, 69, 88, 90, 98, 124, 128 fifth 68, 106, 113; context of 69–74 first four 69–74, 127 second 77–8 sixth 125, 127, 133, 134, 143 third and fourth 127 Searle, J. R. 32 Seebass, H. 77 septets, numbered 63, 98, 124 Servant of the l o r d 159, 191, 199 sexuality, language of 185–7, 207–8, 211 Shannon, C. E. 13 shepherd 158–9, 189, 194 Sirach 72, 73 Skinner, Q. 16, 30, 47 Slater, T. B. 7, 9, 57, 58, 122, 123, 136, 143, 152, 153, 170, 185, 190, 192, 193 slaves, servants of God 8, 76, 89, 115, 128, 133–4, 140–1, 154, 178, 207, 212 Smalley, S. 53, 54 Smith, C. R. 137 Smith, K. 34 Smith, N. 21 Smyrna 110, 112, 115, 168, 192, 205, 210 Snyder, B. W. 197, 212 social-scientific methodology 7 son of man 118, 119–23, 126, 136, 142–3, 146, 148, 155, 159, 169, 170, 176–8, 184, 194, 216 Song, N. 45 Soskice, J. M. 45 souls 76–7 beheaded 77, 107, 108, 109, 110 of the slaughtered 66, 76–8, 79–80, 89, 91, 92, 95, 105, 109, 110, 113, 117, 151, 160, 161, 213 Speech Act theory 20, 32–3 speech acts 19, 20 Sperber, D. 3, 10, 13–20, 22, 24, 33, 34, 45, 48 Spirit 132–3, 171, 176 Staalduine-Sulman, E. van 178 Stambaugh, J. 57

Index Steinmann, A. 125, 143 Stevenson, G. 9, 75, 140, 161, 200, 201 Stonehouse, N. B. 1 Stuckenbruck, L. T. 122, 123, 177 Sturm, R. E. 7 stylistic features, explained by relevance 18–19 suffering (of witnesses, people of God) 8–9, 66, 80, 112, 205, 212 Sweet, J. 8, 53, 56, 57, 75, 77, 79, 85, 95, 96, 102, 104, 108, 109, 113, 114, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 132, 134, 135, 136, 138, 141, 144, 145–6, 152, 156, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 175, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 185, 186, 191, 193, 202, 207 Swete, H. B. 1, 55, 110, 156 symbols, tensive 45 Synoptic Apocalypse 54, 64, 73, 80, 125, 126, 147–8, 177, 192, 203, 215 Tabernacles, feast of 130, 144, 145, 156–7 Talbert, C. H. 218 targums 56, 57, 70, 71, 72, 127, 136, 152, 156, 177, 178, 203 temple 75, 145, 154–6, 161, 199, 200–1, 204, 207 imagery 9 testimony of Jesus 89, 96, 114, 218 textual criticism 48, 167–8, 171, 172, 201, 208, 212, 215 Thiselton, A. 13, 30, 32–3 Thompson, L. 4, 7, 54, 55, 58, 59 Thompson, S. 55 thousand years 66, 107, 111, 205 throne, thrones 81, 107–8, 109, 111 great white 66, 90 throne room 74–5, 124, 136, 140, 146, 175, 199 Thyatira 73, 94, 101, 102, 104, 115, 162, 205, 211 Todorov, T. 23 Topham, M. 207 transumption 37–8 see also metalepsis Trebilco, P. 4, 55, 56, 59 tree of life 204–6, 212 tribes, twelve 135, 137, 138, 139, 201 Dan 137–8 Ephraim 137–8 Judah 137, 139–40, 141–2, 143, 149, 151–2, 180, 181, 194 Levi 137, 149

255 tribulation 66, 96, 147 great 146–9, 150, 153, 154, 200, 205 Trites, A. A. 5, 8, 114, 162, 164 Trotter, D. 25 Trudinger, L. P. 5, 55, 152 trumpets, seven 63, 90, 98, 99, 124, 130 fifth 160 second 179 seventh 163 sixth 138, 160, 187 truth-value 24 Turner, M. 32 Uchida, S. 21, 25 Ulfgard, H. 89, 130, 141, 143, 144, 156 VanderKam, J. C. 6 Vanhoozer, K. 28, 33, 214 Vanhoye, A. 4, 146, 159 Vanni, U. 5, 65, 93 Vassiliadis, P. 78, 96 vengeance 83, 84 Vespasian 166 victory 66, 68, 89, 95, 104, 114–46, 159, 165, 168, 169, 174–8, 179, 204–6, 212 Vielhauer, P. 6 vindication 66, 80, 83, 84, 85, 88, 89, 92, 103, 106, 198 virgins, virginity 185–7, 190, 208, 216 vision narratives 63 first 65 second 65, 68 voice, voices 82, 94–5, 96, 100, 103, 184, 191, 200, 202 Volf, M. 59 Vorster, W. W. 7 Vos, L. A. 5, 54, 146, 177, 180, 186, 189 Waal, C. van der 56 Watchers, book of 186 Water, R. van de 56, 166 water of life, river of 203, 204, 212 Weaver, W. 13 Webber, R. C. 59 Wendland, E. 34, 35–6, 46, 47 Wheelwright, P. 45 whore 66, 102–3, 179, 187 Wilcox, M. 56, 203 Wilkinson, R. H. 200 Wilson, D. 3, 10, 13–20, 21, 22, 24, 33, 34, 46, 48 Wilson, F. M. 121 Wilson, J. C. 57

256

Index

Wimsatt, W. K. 23 winds, four 70, 124, 125–6, 127, 134 wine 102 of fornication 101 of God’s wrath 101 Winkle, R. E. 137 witness 68, 78–9, 80, 89, 91, 95, 96, 97, 104, 112, 114, 115, 116, 117, 148, 168, 175, 178, 192, 196, 202 forensic 8 to Jesus 97, 105, 106, 218 see also testimony witnesses 8, 66, 112, 205 two 8, 91, 114, 130, 160–4, 187 Wolterstorff, N. 33 woman, clothed with sun 91, 94, 95, 96, 204 children of 165, 169, 176 male child of 91, 94, 95, 204 Wong, D. K. K. 70

word of God 89 worship of God, in heaven 66, 103, 154–5, 174 wrath – see anger Yarbro Collins, A. 2, 6, 7, 9, 39, 53, 57, 58, 59, 74, 83, 93, 94, 97, 100, 101, 103, 104, 113, 115, 121, 123, 173, 174, 177, 181, 185, 189, 190, 195, 214 Young, R. D. 35 Yus, F. 21 Zechariah 69–70, 71, 84, 98–9, 126–7, 144, 151, 156, 162, 215 Zechariah, son of Berechiah 84, 199, 200 Zephaniah 98, 191 Zion 66, 117, 157–8, 174, 175, 179–81, 199, 203 as bride 158, 186